The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith ... Revised by the Author: Coll. ed. |
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 | The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith |  |
SELF-CONTEMPT
I bear a message to the sons of men,
Faithful and true,
And it should drop on earth like tender rain,
But yet I bear my message all in vain,
For let me do
Whate'er I may, and plead howe'er I can,
I touch no heart of man.
Faithful and true,
And it should drop on earth like tender rain,
But yet I bear my message all in vain,
For let me do
Whate'er I may, and plead howe'er I can,
I touch no heart of man.
How should I? Though I bear a message true,
The thing I want
Is, room for me to live, and work to do;
And so I go about to places new
With patience scant,
And tell my tale, and then go on my way,
And life grows dull and grey.
The thing I want
Is, room for me to live, and work to do;
And so I go about to places new
With patience scant,
And tell my tale, and then go on my way,
And life grows dull and grey.
And I am full of self-contempt and scorn
To go about
Thus, falsely speaking truth to hearts forlorn,
And jibe myself that I, some ugly morn,
Shall be found out
To be no prophet whom the Lord hath sent,
Or for His service meant.
To go about
Thus, falsely speaking truth to hearts forlorn,
And jibe myself that I, some ugly morn,
Shall be found out
To be no prophet whom the Lord hath sent,
Or for His service meant.
But is my message true? To-day, I seem
Full of the lights
That from the bleeding Christ so grandly stream;
And lo! to-morrow, it is like a dream
Of restless nights:
And I have drifted back into the shade,
Unsaying what I said.
Full of the lights
That from the bleeding Christ so grandly stream;
And lo! to-morrow, it is like a dream
Of restless nights:
And I have drifted back into the shade,
Unsaying what I said.
I seek a gospel which I should have found
Before I tried
To preach, with unfixed heart, the faith profound
Which tells the captive that he is unbound
By Him who died
To ope his prison door, and set him free
From all his misery.
Before I tried
To preach, with unfixed heart, the faith profound
Which tells the captive that he is unbound
By Him who died
To ope his prison door, and set him free
From all his misery.
O heart that would be true! O hard estate,
To falset bound!
This only comfort is there in my fate;
My message I did ne'er prevaricate
With tinkling sound
To tickle ears, nor played with showy trick
Of tinsel rhetoric.
To falset bound!
This only comfort is there in my fate;
My message I did ne'er prevaricate
With tinkling sound
To tickle ears, nor played with showy trick
Of tinsel rhetoric.
I've mocked myself, and laughed with bitter jest
At much I saw;
But yet I kept a true heart in my breast,
Nor turned, in all my trouble and unrest,
From the high law
Of present duty; and my peace is great
Even in this hard estate.
At much I saw;
But yet I kept a true heart in my breast,
Nor turned, in all my trouble and unrest,
From the high law
Of present duty; and my peace is great
Even in this hard estate.
| The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith | |