Poems by T. Westwood |
 |
STANZAS ADDRESSED TO A LADY WHO AFFECTED A DISLIKE FOR POETRY. |
|
|
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
| 11. |
| 12. |
 | Poems |  |
16
STANZAS ADDRESSED TO A LADY WHO AFFECTED A DISLIKE FOR POETRY.
Oh lady! scorn not Poesy,
It hath high thoughts and glorious dreams;
Its place is in the dim wood's shade,
And by the rushing streams.
It lives in every bright green leaf
That glitters in the scented air,
In every blossom, every bud,
'Mid all things young and fair.
It hath high thoughts and glorious dreams;
Its place is in the dim wood's shade,
And by the rushing streams.
It lives in every bright green leaf
That glitters in the scented air,
In every blossom, every bud,
'Mid all things young and fair.
I see it in each golden cloud
That glides across the summer sky;
I hear it in each breezy wind
With music floating by.
If I ascend the mountain's brow,
Or sail upon yon dark blue tide,
Still Poesy with wings of light,
Is ever by my side.
That glides across the summer sky;
I hear it in each breezy wind
With music floating by.
17
Or sail upon yon dark blue tide,
Still Poesy with wings of light,
Is ever by my side.
Oh, cold and dull must that man be,
And blank the visions of his mind,
Who hath not nurs'd with jealous care
Its image there enshrined.
Then lady scorn not Poesy,
Its home is with all gentle things,
And rich and priceless, is its dower
Of pure imaginings.
And blank the visions of his mind,
Who hath not nurs'd with jealous care
Its image there enshrined.
Then lady scorn not Poesy,
Its home is with all gentle things,
And rich and priceless, is its dower
Of pure imaginings.
| Poems | |