 | The Collected Poems of Lord De Tabley |  |
A FUTURE
Thy love may be the vocal memories
Of idols overthrown, imperial hours:
Thy lute may moan perpetual monodies
Of desecrated bowers.
Of idols overthrown, imperial hours:
Thy lute may moan perpetual monodies
Of desecrated bowers.
Thy creed may be to move in solemn shade
With drooping head, a dream upon an earth
Of careless creatures—proudly disarray'd
Of any masking mirth.
With drooping head, a dream upon an earth
Of careless creatures—proudly disarray'd
Of any masking mirth.
Thy rest may be a rest we cannot know—
Beyond sleek envy's scorn and cant of sneers—
Pervaded with the secret strength of woe,
Yet consecrate to tears.
Beyond sleek envy's scorn and cant of sneers—
Pervaded with the secret strength of woe,
Yet consecrate to tears.
| The Collected Poems of Lord De Tabley | |