English Roses by F. Harald Williams [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
TO THE REV. T. E. BROWN, late FELLOW OF ORIEL. |
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| VI. |
 | English Roses |  |
TO THE REV. T. E. BROWN, late FELLOW OF ORIEL.
Thy years have yet the youthful heart of hope,Thy frost burns with a soul of singing flame,
Olympic man of light, whom none can name
Except with honour and its larger scope!
Thy foot is high and sure upon the slope
Leading the Few to that eternal Fame
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And pure and lofty as the heaven's blue cope.
Thy words of wisdom, linked to the true strain
Which moves in music but is more than pain,
Compel my breast to beat in tune with thine;
And those deep thunder-throbs, in shade and shine,
Are what the Powers we serve do pre-ordain—
One with the Cosmic harmonies Divine.
| English Roses | |