 | The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston |  |
A LIFE.
He walked 'midst shadows, and he nursed at heart
A grief that set strange poison in his blood;
He lived, and was of no man understood.
In all glad things that be he had no part;
And wearily he turned unto his art,
But of his labor had he little good.
Comfort he sought in cheerless solitude;
But visionary faces made him start.
A grief that set strange poison in his blood;
He lived, and was of no man understood.
In all glad things that be he had no part;
And wearily he turned unto his art,
But of his labor had he little good.
Comfort he sought in cheerless solitude;
But visionary faces made him start.
Wrong things he did, was quick of thought and speech.
For grievous sin had grievous punishment;
Missed Love, missed Fame, both once within his reach,
Nor might succeed in any high intent;
And when he died had on his monument:
“All that Life taught him, Lord, let Death unteach.”
For grievous sin had grievous punishment;
Missed Love, missed Fame, both once within his reach,
Nor might succeed in any high intent;
And when he died had on his monument:
“All that Life taught him, Lord, let Death unteach.”
| The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston | |