The Poetical Works of David Macbeth Moir Edited by Thomas Aird: With A Memoir of the Author |
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 | The Poetical Works of David Macbeth Moir |  |
VII.
Smil'st thou at this, prosaic age,Whom seldom other thoughts engage
Than those of pitiable self,
The talismans of power and pelf—
Whose only dream is Bentham's dream,
And Poetry is choked by steam?
It must be so; but yet to him
Who loves to roam 'mid relics dim
Of ages, whose existence seems
Less like reality than dreams—
A raptured, an ecstatic trance,
A gorgeous vision of romance—
It yields a wildly pleasing joy,
To feel in soul once more a boy,
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Love's soft Elysian atmosphere;
To leave the rugged paths of Truth
For fancies that illumined youth,
And throw Enchantment's colours o'er
The forest dim, the ruin hoar,
The walks where musing Genius strayed,
The spot where Faith life's forfeit paid,
The dungeon where the patriot lay,
The cairn that marks the warrior's clay,
The rosiers twain that shed their bloom
In autumn o'er the lover's tomb;
For sure such scenes, if truth be found
In what we feel, are hallowed ground.
| The Poetical Works of David Macbeth Moir | |