 | The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston |  |
CAPTURED THOUGHT.
A thought came to my spirit as I lay
Between two sleeps; and through the silent night
It looked at me, with sudden eyes and bright;
Then, when I strove to touch it, fled away,
And bade me dream; but at the break of day
I, waking, saw, through gray, increasing light,
My last night's thought; but as, with greater might,
I strove to grasp it, only crying, “Stay!” —
Between two sleeps; and through the silent night
It looked at me, with sudden eyes and bright;
Then, when I strove to touch it, fled away,
And bade me dream; but at the break of day
I, waking, saw, through gray, increasing light,
My last night's thought; but as, with greater might,
I strove to grasp it, only crying, “Stay!” —
It spread its wings for flight. Then, as a snare
I set my song, and snared the lovely thing,
And said, “O flying thought, thou art too fair
For me to leave thee free and wandering!
Yet fret not for thy liberty, but where
Sad souls can hear thee be content to sing.”
I set my song, and snared the lovely thing,
And said, “O flying thought, thou art too fair
For me to leave thee free and wandering!
Yet fret not for thy liberty, but where
Sad souls can hear thee be content to sing.”
| The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston | |