 | The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston |  |
115
III.
Upbraid me not, O world, that I forbear
To make this song of mine a sword to smite
The wrongs of nations and defend the right;
Nor that I fail, through some remoter air,
To follow proud philosophy even where
Through soundless skies she tracks the lonely height.
You say the world's in darkness; in the fight
Of creeds conflicting bid me take my share:
To make this song of mine a sword to smite
The wrongs of nations and defend the right;
Nor that I fail, through some remoter air,
To follow proud philosophy even where
Through soundless skies she tracks the lonely height.
You say the world's in darkness; in the fight
Of creeds conflicting bid me take my share:
In truth I am no coward, but I say,
Strive for the right you love so; quell the wrong.
I cannot rise and join you in the fray;
All I could give you would not be for long,
And might avail you nothing; go your way!
The grief that weds my soul requires my song.
Strive for the right you love so; quell the wrong.
I cannot rise and join you in the fray;
All I could give you would not be for long,
And might avail you nothing; go your way!
The grief that weds my soul requires my song.
| The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston | |