 | The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston |  |
297
TWO PALACES.
Lo, now, how well, at last, all things come right!
We thought a lordly pleasure-house to raise,
But, shaken by the shock and change of days,
It fell; and now we build upon its site
Another palace of more moderate height, —
Not large, or lordly, but a pleasant place,
With quiet paintings, and a waving grace
Of leaves for June, when suns are over-bright.
We thought a lordly pleasure-house to raise,
But, shaken by the shock and change of days,
It fell; and now we build upon its site
Another palace of more moderate height, —
Not large, or lordly, but a pleasant place,
With quiet paintings, and a waving grace
Of leaves for June, when suns are over-bright.
“How fair it is! How better in all ways
Than that we strove to build before!” we muse,
Both silently; yet o'er some buried trace
Of that first palace both to bend might choose,
Saying: “This last is worthy of most praise,
Yet here was something that we loved, and lose.”
Than that we strove to build before!” we muse,
Both silently; yet o'er some buried trace
Of that first palace both to bend might choose,
Saying: “This last is worthy of most praise,
Yet here was something that we loved, and lose.”
| The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston | |