 | The Poetical Works of Laman Blanchard |  |
163
THE SHADOWS OF LIFE.
The secret world in human eyes
Is deluged still with tears;
Our breath is turned to feverish sighs,
And nature mused in fears.
Cannot life rend its thin disguise,
Or be what it appears!
Is deluged still with tears;
Our breath is turned to feverish sighs,
And nature mused in fears.
Cannot life rend its thin disguise,
Or be what it appears!
All passion is a blazing brand
Thrown on a ready pile;
Friendship a pressure of the hand;
Pity a winter smile;
And hope but winds across the sand,
That forms, and fails the while.
Thrown on a ready pile;
Friendship a pressure of the hand;
Pity a winter smile;
And hope but winds across the sand,
That forms, and fails the while.
Our life is as an idle boat
Along a winding river;
An aimless arrow sprung remote
From an ethereal quiver;
And pilotless it still must float,
And aimless speed for ever.
Along a winding river;
An aimless arrow sprung remote
From an ethereal quiver;
And pilotless it still must float,
And aimless speed for ever.
164
Then let man build upon the grave
A hope that cannot sink,
A wintry waste his foot must brave,
Yet he may find some brink;
Or haply drop within the wave,
Whose wine he thought to drink.
A hope that cannot sink,
A wintry waste his foot must brave,
Yet he may find some brink;
Or haply drop within the wave,
Whose wine he thought to drink.
| The Poetical Works of Laman Blanchard | |