Poems by Frederick Goddard Tuckerman | ||
15
Infatuation.
'Tis his one hope: all else that round his lifeSo fairly circles, scarce he numbers now.
The pride of name, a lot with blessings rife,
Determined friends, great gifts that him endow,
Are shrunk to nothing in a woman's smile:
Counsel, reproof, entreaty, all are lost,
Like windy waters which their strength exhaust,
And leave no impress: worldly lips revile
With sneer and stinging gibe; but idly by,
Unfelt, unheard, the impatient arrows fly.
Careless, he joins a parasitic train,—
Fops, fools, and flatterers, whom her arts enchain,
Nor counts aught base that may to her pertain.
16
The present exigence he looks to please,
Nor seeks beyond; but only strives to clutch
That which will goad his heart, but ne'er can ease;
So the drenched sailor, wrecked in Indian seas,
To some low reef of wounding coral clings
Mid slavery weed, and drift, and ocean scurf;
Yet heedeth not companionship of these,
But strains his quivering grasp, and stoutly swings,
Despite of lifting swell and flinging surf.
Poems by Frederick Goddard Tuckerman | ||