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 | The poems of Madison Cawein |  |
[O lyrist of the lowly and the true]
O lyrist of the lowly and the true,The song I sought for you
Still bides-unsung. What hope for me to find,
Lost in the dædal mind,
The living utterance with lovely tongue,
To sing,—as once he sung,
Rare Ariosto, of Knight-Errantry,—
How you in Poesy,
Song's Paladin, Knight of the Dream and Day,
The shield of magic sway!
Of that Atlantes' power, sweet and terse,
The skyey-builded verse!
The shield that dazzles, brilliant with surprise,
Our unanointed eyes.—
Oh, could I write as it were worthy you,
Each word, a spark of dew,—
As once Ferdusi wrote in Persia,—
Would string each rosy spray
Of each unfolding flower of my song;
And Iran's bulbul tongue
Would sob its heart out o'er the fountain's slab
In gardens of Afrasiab.
| The poems of Madison Cawein | |