 | The Poetical Works of James Gates Percival |  |
[I. Is it not true, as one has proudly sung]
Is it not true, as one has proudly sung,“A Poet's love is Immortality?”
Many a time and oft that note has rung
Echoings of high and heavenly harmony.
Sweet, when the weary day is done, to be
Greeted by budding lips and kindling eyes,
Pressed to the one true heart in ecstasy,—
Enchantment only worthy of the skies.
Repose my heart has sought, and all in vain;
Care, like a demon, hunts me everywhere;
In vain this faded brow a wreath may wear,—
Vain laurels, colder than the captive's chain:
A look, a word of fondness, kindly given,
Love-lit and tender, to that fame were heaven.
| The Poetical Works of James Gates Percival | |