 | I. |
| II. |
 | III. |
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| II. |
 | A collection of poems by Ernest Radford |  |
61
To H. E. T.
62
II. HOME FROM HOME.
Where one finds silence understood,
Where speech is golden grain,
Where Faith and Hope and Charity,
The maidens of thy train,
Assembled at thy bidding have
To smooth the bed of pain.
Where speech is golden grain,
Where Faith and Hope and Charity,
The maidens of thy train,
Assembled at thy bidding have
To smooth the bed of pain.
The room and its appointments tell
Of thy presiding care,
The flowers that call thee mistress lend
Their sweetness to the air.
The heralds of the dawn who have
Their white feet on the stair;
The sign of silence they do make,
The sleeper has their prayer.
So dreameth he the poet's dream,
A medley rich and rare,
Of being lifted up and laid
On beds of clover there.
My friend, another wingèd thought
The verse will hardly bear,
Tho' denizens of Heaven have
Their clouds of maiden-hair!
Let others note the glint of gold
In the white robes they wear,
And show them yielding sapling-wise
To every breath of air;
For what but idle dreams are mine
Of joys I cannot share?
Nor peace nor rest in London is—
My soul is with thee there.
Of thy presiding care,
The flowers that call thee mistress lend
Their sweetness to the air.
The heralds of the dawn who have
Their white feet on the stair;
The sign of silence they do make,
The sleeper has their prayer.
So dreameth he the poet's dream,
A medley rich and rare,
Of being lifted up and laid
On beds of clover there.
My friend, another wingèd thought
The verse will hardly bear,
Tho' denizens of Heaven have
Their clouds of maiden-hair!
Let others note the glint of gold
In the white robes they wear,
And show them yielding sapling-wise
To every breath of air;
For what but idle dreams are mine
Of joys I cannot share?
Nor peace nor rest in London is—
My soul is with thee there.
| A collection of poems by Ernest Radford | |