Poems By Edward Dowden |
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IF IT MIGHT BE |
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179
IF IT MIGHT BE
If it might be, I would not have my leaves
Drop in autumnal stillness one by one,
Like these pale fluttering waifs that heap sad sheaves
Through mere inertia trembling, tottering down.
Drop in autumnal stillness one by one,
Like these pale fluttering waifs that heap sad sheaves
Through mere inertia trembling, tottering down.
Better one roaring day, one wrestling night,
The dark musician's fiercer harmony,
And then abandoned bareness, or the light
Of strange discovered skies, if it might be.
The dark musician's fiercer harmony,
And then abandoned bareness, or the light
Of strange discovered skies, if it might be.
Poems | ||