 | The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston |  |
TO LOVE.
O Love, because when others praised thy name,
And worshipped at thy shrine, I stood aloof,
And said to men, “Why prate you so of Love,
And of Love's inextinguishable flame?
Lo! Love is trodden under foot of Fame;
This light you boast of, burns it clear enough
To guide you if the path you tread is rough?
Lo! Love, at last shall bring you all to shame:”
And worshipped at thy shrine, I stood aloof,
And said to men, “Why prate you so of Love,
And of Love's inextinguishable flame?
Lo! Love is trodden under foot of Fame;
This light you boast of, burns it clear enough
To guide you if the path you tread is rough?
Lo! Love, at last shall bring you all to shame:”
Because I took thy holy name in vain,
Kept not thy laws, nor followed in thy ways,
Can I hope any place with thee to gain?
Yet, as one came, and bade my lips refrain,
And brought my soul to know thee, let these lays
Lie now accepted at thy throne of grace.
Kept not thy laws, nor followed in thy ways,
Can I hope any place with thee to gain?
Yet, as one came, and bade my lips refrain,
And brought my soul to know thee, let these lays
Lie now accepted at thy throne of grace.
| The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston | |