 | The Poems of A. C. Benson |  |
58
EDWARD FITZGERALD
I hear a stronger music in the air,
I mark a richer harmony combine
With those thin eager melodies of thine;
I look for thee and find another there;—
I mark a richer harmony combine
With those thin eager melodies of thine;
I look for thee and find another there;—
And dost thou beckon from the ages dim,
My cynic minstrel, Omar? Is it thou?
Or do I trace, behind the furrowed brow,
The shy and sober lineaments of him
My cynic minstrel, Omar? Is it thou?
Or do I trace, behind the furrowed brow,
The shy and sober lineaments of him
Who lingered listless in a land of streams;—
As when some laughing child endues a mask
Of frozen horror, whence the pure eye shines
In smiling softness; 'twas thy destined task
To dig new ores from those ungarnered mines,
And flush with young desires those pallid dreams.
As when some laughing child endues a mask
Of frozen horror, whence the pure eye shines
In smiling softness; 'twas thy destined task
To dig new ores from those ungarnered mines,
And flush with young desires those pallid dreams.
| The Poems of A. C. Benson | |