[Poems by Duganne in] Golden leaflets a selection of poetry, designed as a present book for all seasons |
 |
 | [Poems by Duganne in] Golden leaflets |  |
44
THE ANVIL THOUGHT.
Men who ponder! list to me!
In the depths of all your hearts,
Something lives, and something starts:
It would mount—it would be free—
Chain it not, I counsel ye!
In the depths of all your hearts,
Something lives, and something starts:
It would mount—it would be free—
Chain it not, I counsel ye!
Men who in the furrow tread,
Sowing seed within the earth,
Trusting in its future birth—
Lo! within your souls lies dead
Seed that may be future bread!
Sowing seed within the earth,
Trusting in its future birth—
Lo! within your souls lies dead
Seed that may be future bread!
Men whose life with toil is fraught—
Ye who o'er the anvil bow—
In your souls, oh, gaze ye now:—
Here abides the Anvil Thought—
There may mighty deeds be wrought!
Ye who o'er the anvil bow—
In your souls, oh, gaze ye now:—
Here abides the Anvil Thought—
There may mighty deeds be wrought!
Acorns blossom to the oak—
Drops of rain to oceans swell—
Dare ye not your thoughts to quell!
Never yet was truth outspoke
That hath not an echo woke!
Drops of rain to oceans swell—
Dare ye not your thoughts to quell!
Never yet was truth outspoke
That hath not an echo woke!
Dare not ye true thoughts to hide;
On the waters cast your bread—
Prophets were by ravens fed;
If to speak it hath not tried,
Then is thought a suicide!
On the waters cast your bread—
Prophets were by ravens fed;
If to speak it hath not tried,
Then is thought a suicide!
A. J. H. Duganne.
121
THE STAR OF LOVE.
When the soul, in gloom despairing,
Sees the light of hope depart,
And the midnight of our sorrows
Hangeth darkly o'er the heart;
Then a beaming star appeareth
In the darksome sky above—
'T is the guiding star to heaven,
'T is the holy Star of Love.
Sees the light of hope depart,
And the midnight of our sorrows
Hangeth darkly o'er the heart;
Then a beaming star appeareth
In the darksome sky above—
'T is the guiding star to heaven,
'T is the holy Star of Love.
Shining sweetly on the spirit,
Falleth down each gentle ray,
Softly whispering of a morrow,—
Sweetly calling us to pray:—
Each bright ray a thread of silver,
Falling gently from above,
Windeth round our softened spirit,
Charming all our heart in Love!
Falleth down each gentle ray,
Softly whispering of a morrow,—
Sweetly calling us to pray:—
Each bright ray a thread of silver,
Falling gently from above,
Windeth round our softened spirit,
Charming all our heart in Love!
A. J. H. Duganne.
| [Poems by Duganne in] Golden leaflets | |