Lyric Poems by Laurence Binyon |
I. |
II. |
IV. |
VII. |
X. | X. TO A SOLITARY FIR-TREE. |
XII. |
XV. |
XVI. |
XIX. |
XXII. |
XXIV. |
XXV. |
XXVI. |
XXVII. |
XXIX. |
XXXI. |
XXXII. |
XXXIII. |
XXXIV. |
XXXV. |
XXXVII. |
XXXVIII. |
XL. |
XLVI. |
XLVII. |
XLVIII. |
XLIX. |
Lyric Poems | ||
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X. TO A SOLITARY FIR-TREE.
Fir, that on this moor austere,Without kin or neighbour near,
Utterest now bleak winter's moan
As if its vext soul were thine own!
Unbefriended, placed like thee,
Ah, how lonely should I be!
But luminous midsummer nights,
Faintly filled with starry lights,
Morns miraculously clear
In the soft youth of the year,
Autumn mists and evenings chill,
Find thee proudly patient still:
None can mar thy steadfast mood,
Thy stanch and stately fortitude.
Had I no heart, to strive, to crave,
I too, perchance, could be as brave!
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With passionate longing never stilled,
Desiring in the midst of bliss,
Thou, strong Tree, thou know'st not this:
The outstretched arms, the hungry eyes,
Gazing up to silent skies,
Beautiful, silent skies of June,
And radiant mystery of the moon!
To buy peace, we men forget:
But peace is in thy fibres set.
If thou art not stirred with joy,
Thou hast nothing that can cloy;
Without effort, without strife,
Art thyself, and liv'st thy life.
This solitude thou hast not known,
Both to be human and alone.
Lyric Poems | ||