 | The collected poems of Arthur Edward Waite |  |
THE LIGHTER VEIN
Ready pen and easy thought,
Turning out a lilting verse;
Here a flash of fancy caught,
There an artful image wrought—
Could be better, might be worse!
Turning out a lilting verse;
Here a flash of fancy caught,
There an artful image wrought—
Could be better, might be worse!
Easy comes and easy goes
The too light, fantastic rhyme—
Tinkles, twitters, sparkles, flows;
Nothing matters, no one knows:
Who shall care in after time?
The too light, fantastic rhyme—
Tinkles, twitters, sparkles, flows;
Nothing matters, no one knows:
Who shall care in after time?
Saving grace, or pleasing wit
Jingling for the hour it can—
Something miss'd and something hit—
He that runs may read in it,
Vex not thou its transient plan!
Jingling for the hour it can—
Something miss'd and something hit—
He that runs may read in it,
Vex not thou its transient plan!
Leave it—organ songs of old
Peal from out the ages gone;
Other times shall yet behold
Singers come with mouths of gold;
Till then let it babble on.
Peal from out the ages gone;
Other times shall yet behold
Singers come with mouths of gold;
Till then let it babble on.
| The collected poems of Arthur Edward Waite | |