The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | ||
320
XIV. THE POETRY OF LIFE.
Dian! thy brother of the golden beamsIs hailed for ever as the Lord of Song,
Master of manly verse, and mystic dreams:
Doth, then, no female lyre to thee belong?
Say, is that silver bow whose crescent gleams,
Above black pine-woods lifted, or low-hung
'Twixt hornèd rocks, or troubling midnight streams,
With immelodious cord, and silent, strung?
Ah no, not so! Thou too art musical!
The world is full of poetry unwrit;
Dew-woven nets that virgin hearts enthrall;
Darts of glad thought through infant brains that flit;
Hope and pursuit; loved bonds, and fancies free;—
Poor were our earth of these bereft and thee!
The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | ||