 | The violet crown by Sir Rennell Rodd |  |
107
ONCE, LONG AGO
Once, long ago, my own winged words
Bore me I knew not where,
As in a stormy spring the birds
Are blown about in air.
Bore me I knew not where,
As in a stormy spring the birds
Are blown about in air.
Now I am master of my theme
To sing or to refrain,
To analyse the prisoned dream
Or give it life again.
To sing or to refrain,
To analyse the prisoned dream
Or give it life again.
I may not doubt that truth belongs
To this serener day,
But some lost magic touched those songs
That went their own wild way.
To this serener day,
But some lost magic touched those songs
That went their own wild way.
| The violet crown by Sir Rennell Rodd | |