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 | Poetical Works of Lionel Johnson |  |
II
Lucretius! King of men, that are
No more, they think, than men:
Who, past the flaming walls afar,
Find nought within their ken:
No more, they think, than men:
Who, past the flaming walls afar,
Find nought within their ken:
The cruel draught, that wildered thee,
And drove thee upon sleep,
Was kinder than Philosophy,
Who would not let thee weep.
And drove thee upon sleep,
Was kinder than Philosophy,
Who would not let thee weep.
Thou knowest now, that life and death
Are wondrous intervals:
The fortunes of a fitful breath,
Within the flaming walls.
Are wondrous intervals:
The fortunes of a fitful breath,
Within the flaming walls.
Without them, an eternal plan,
Which life and death obey:
Divinity, that fashions man,
Its high, immortal way.
Which life and death obey:
Divinity, that fashions man,
Its high, immortal way.
Or was he right, thy past compare,
Thy one true voice of Greece?
Then, whirled about the unconscious air,
Thou hast a vehement peace.
Thy one true voice of Greece?
Then, whirled about the unconscious air,
Thou hast a vehement peace.
86
No calms of light, no purple lands,
No sanctuaries sublime:
Like storms of snow, like quaking sands,
Thine atoms drift through time.
No sanctuaries sublime:
Like storms of snow, like quaking sands,
Thine atoms drift through time.
1889.
| Poetical Works of Lionel Johnson | |