The Queen and Other Poems By Richard Garnett |
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| I. |
| II. |
| VII. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVIII. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XL. |
| XLI. | XLI
VIDEO MELIORA |
| XLIV. |
| XLVIII. |
 | The Queen and Other Poems |  |
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XLI
VIDEO MELIORA
'Tis not that witchery of Sin hath sway,
But that the rock of Will is crumbling sand:
The dungeons of the soul so open stand,
Well might she issue by her entering way.
Heart, thou art not so trodden into clay
That ever must thou cower, where once trepanned;
Torpor not palsy numbs the inactive hand,
And shrouded eye sleeps dreaming of the day.
Enough of wooing of estranged delight,
Enough of crouching fear and wistful care,
And banquet with all sauce but appetite:
Leave, Spirit, leave these reptiles to their lair,
And rise rejoicing to the golden light
Thou canst not miss, for it is everywhere.
| The Queen and Other Poems | |