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 | The Poetical Works of (Richard Monckton Milnes) Lord Houghton |  |
60
POETRY AND THE POET.
When, in a frame of liquid verse,
I read you how pure Love's delight
Is turned to Life's consummate curse,
By woman's pride and hard despite,—
Full many a sympathising chord
Vibrated all your soul along;
You trembled at each poignant word,
And wept ere I had closed the song.
I read you how pure Love's delight
Is turned to Life's consummate curse,
By woman's pride and hard despite,—
Full many a sympathising chord
Vibrated all your soul along;
You trembled at each poignant word,
And wept ere I had closed the song.
But when, in rude and broken prose,
I laid my heart before you bare,—
Dared the deep misery to disclose,
Which you had long awakened there;
A trivial laugh, a pitying look
(Yet half of scorn) was all you gave,—
You bent before the lifeless Book,
Though loth a living Heart to save.
I laid my heart before you bare,—
Dared the deep misery to disclose,
Which you had long awakened there;
A trivial laugh, a pitying look
(Yet half of scorn) was all you gave,—
You bent before the lifeless Book,
Though loth a living Heart to save.
My Art is not a vulgar craft
To work some passing Pleasure-spell,—
There is no virtue in the draught
For those who desecrate the well:
Proud Loveliness! retain your sway,—
Leave me to suffer as I can,
But do not seem to love the Lay,
And mock the Poet and the Man.
To work some passing Pleasure-spell,—
There is no virtue in the draught
For those who desecrate the well:
61
Leave me to suffer as I can,
But do not seem to love the Lay,
And mock the Poet and the Man.
1836.
| The Poetical Works of (Richard Monckton Milnes) Lord Houghton | |