 | English Roses |  |
TO MY FUTURE JUDGES.
To those I write across the ages,
Armed with the wisdom of the sages
And stronger man;
The brighter for each vanquished fall,
Equipt and ripe and rich with all
The spirit can.
To thee, not curbed with bit and bridling
And soothed with sops of sugared idling,
O fairer woman
Divinely human;
I offer this, who fain would kiss
Thy red lips over the abyss.
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And stronger man;
The brighter for each vanquished fall,
Equipt and ripe and rich with all
The spirit can.
To thee, not curbed with bit and bridling
And soothed with sops of sugared idling,
O fairer woman
Divinely human;
I offer this, who fain would kiss
Thy red lips over the abyss.
From gutter scribes and bloodless clerics
Like females writhing in hysterics
And ordered lies,
Whose faith no deeper is than skin
And never was in spite of thin
Mock agonies;
I turn to breadth of ocean air
And thought that climbs a starry stair
With love for leaven,
To mix with Heaven—
The soul that mates with larger hates,
And lore of suffering's high estates.
Like females writhing in hysterics
And ordered lies,
Whose faith no deeper is than skin
And never was in spite of thin
Mock agonies;
I turn to breadth of ocean air
And thought that climbs a starry stair
With love for leaven,
To mix with Heaven—
The soul that mates with larger hates,
And lore of suffering's high estates.
I send you here a brother's greetings,
Beyond the mummeries and meetings
Of shrouds and shrines;
I give this blossom of a book,
Thee ye may reverent read and look
Betwixt the lines.
Above our muddy streams of trust,
And eddies of a pious dust
Which folly raises
With mutual praises;
Though envy rasp, your broader grasp
Shall open every seal and clasp.
Beyond the mummeries and meetings
Of shrouds and shrines;
I give this blossom of a book,
Thee ye may reverent read and look
Betwixt the lines.
Above our muddy streams of trust,
And eddies of a pious dust
Which folly raises
With mutual praises;
Though envy rasp, your broader grasp
Shall open every seal and clasp.
And at the bar of better knowledge,
A wider court, a grander college
Than any here;
I stand for judgment, in the light
That cannot err, and past our night
And narrow sphere.
O ye will keep from cruel shame
That precious charge, a Poet's name,
When realms have rotted,
Unspent, unspotted;
To gladden age and every stage
O life, a joy and heritage.
A wider court, a grander college
Than any here;
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That cannot err, and past our night
And narrow sphere.
O ye will keep from cruel shame
That precious charge, a Poet's name,
When realms have rotted,
Unspent, unspotted;
To gladden age and every stage
O life, a joy and heritage.
| English Roses | |