Madmoments: or First Verseattempts By a Bornnatural. Addressed to the Lightheaded of Society at Large, by Henry Ellison |
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ASPIRATIONS AFTER THE IMPOSSIBLE. |
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 | Madmoments: or First Verseattempts |  |
ASPIRATIONS AFTER THE IMPOSSIBLE.
1.
Vain Aspirations, that on faltering wingUplift your rash and heavenscaling flight
Into that Air where none may breathe: such height
But preludes deeper downfall: ye can bring
Back unto Earth and to Earth's puny King
No vaster Bliss than suits his bounded Might
And frail Capacity: the heavenslight
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Is perfect in itself and boasts its own
Particular charm, each moment bears upon
Its wings some shape of bliss, and ere 'tis flown,
Be wise and pluck, or else the Rosebloom's gone,
And Dis sappointment's barren thorn alone
Remains, to sting the Heart, when «All is known»!
2.
What is to live? to live each moment's space,With these to build up thine Eternity,
For still 'tis made of moments: as they fly
To hive their honey: not in the vain chace
Of coming pleasures' fancygilded race,
Mere sunbeammotes, to let the present die
And wither on Time's stalk unplucked. Oh why
Are we not Children still? why from the face
Of Nature do we turn away or gaze
With sated eyes, why do we Live no more
Unto the moment's bliss, as in the Days
Of Childhood, when Life's seasonable flower
We gathered and were blest, and in its Place
Sprang new ones, seeds of that plucked just before!
3.
Alas! what is it in this world that makesTrue happiness a name, an airbuilt dream?
O'erbusy in the search, on life's dark stream,
Chained to Hope's oar, we toil and toil, 'till breaks
The last wave on Time's wreckstrewn shore, and wakes
Us with its Shock to catch the flickering gleam
Of Hope's expiring torch, the spectral Beam
That lights us to the Grave: while o'er life's wrecks
The thundering surge of dark Eternity
Breaks like the wave o'er bubbles! Oh! awake,
Seek not to grasp the Future lest it fly
E'en as a shadow from thy clutch, a snake
Which in our Bosoms cherished, long will lie;
With the Heartsblood at length its thirst to slake!
| Madmoments: or First Verseattempts | |