Records and Other Poems By the late Robert Leighton |
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THE WORLD'S FALSENESS. |
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 | Records and Other Poems |  |
269
THE WORLD'S FALSENESS.
Hadst thou, O World, aught of a lasting nature:
Didst taste as sweet as thou art sweet to see;
O, if thy heart bore out thy outward feature,
Then would I live for thee.
Didst taste as sweet as thou art sweet to see;
O, if thy heart bore out thy outward feature,
Then would I live for thee.
But thou art false! thy pleasures leave us longing;
Our longings, got, are not what we desired:
We throng towards things that fade and mock our thronging—
Shadows that leave us tired!
Our longings, got, are not what we desired:
We throng towards things that fade and mock our thronging—
Shadows that leave us tired!
And I am wearied of them! I have follow'd
Earth's vanities too long; all earth can give,
Have tasted; its deep draughts of joy have swallow'd—
Yet discontented live!
Earth's vanities too long; all earth can give,
Have tasted; its deep draughts of joy have swallow'd—
Yet discontented live!
Its sweetest sweets, half tasted, turn to sour:
E'en lasting sweets bring loathing with their sweetness;
Most potent spells of pleasure lose their power—
Showing their incompleteness.
E'en lasting sweets bring loathing with their sweetness;
Most potent spells of pleasure lose their power—
Showing their incompleteness.
Most treacherous ice is all around! to which
A venturous thought is e'en too great a load;
And all gives way beneath our shivering touch—
Until we come to God.
A venturous thought is e'en too great a load;
And all gives way beneath our shivering touch—
Until we come to God.
270
And even He may be a dream! Our faith,
Our love of Him, our wonder, and our trust,
May into air, by the bleak wind of death,
Be blown away as dust.
Our love of Him, our wonder, and our trust,
May into air, by the bleak wind of death,
Be blown away as dust.
Yet in this doubt is there not more reality
Than in the most substantial thing of sense?
Not more of truth and heart-sustaining quality
Than aught else can dispense?
Than in the most substantial thing of sense?
Not more of truth and heart-sustaining quality
Than aught else can dispense?
O nothing is more real! all beside,
Our breath can blow away; but this it cannot:
And, knowing nought so strong in this world wide,
O why not rest upon it!
Our breath can blow away; but this it cannot:
And, knowing nought so strong in this world wide,
O why not rest upon it!
| Records and Other Poems | |