The Battle-Day and Other Poems By Ernest Jones |
 |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
|
|
|
|
THE POET'S DEATH. |
|
| I. |
 | The Battle-Day and Other Poems |  |
131
THE POET'S DEATH.
A brave old warrior of poesy,
Grown grey-haired in the service of his lyre;
A soul like an imprisoned Liberty—
A mind like an imprisoned fire.
Grown grey-haired in the service of his lyre;
A soul like an imprisoned Liberty—
A mind like an imprisoned fire.
Vain tyranny would chain his eagle wings,
Vain malice would his heavenly visions tame:
Still through the prison-bars the angel sings,
Still breaks through dungeon-walls the flashing flame.
Vain malice would his heavenly visions tame:
Still through the prison-bars the angel sings,
Still breaks through dungeon-walls the flashing flame.
Forth, o'er the coldness of the outer world,
Burst from his heart deep feeling's fiery flow;
Thus, from the volcano's rim unfurled,
The lava-banner waves o'er ice and snow.
Burst from his heart deep feeling's fiery flow;
Thus, from the volcano's rim unfurled,
The lava-banner waves o'er ice and snow.
Hail to the bard, who ever sang the right!
Hail to the river on a desert rolled!
Hail to the veteran from the Titan-fight!
Hail to the heart that dies but grows not old!
Hail to the river on a desert rolled!
Hail to the veteran from the Titan-fight!
Hail to the heart that dies but grows not old!
133
Slow down the tide of the departing years,
The venerable shadow flits along.
No tears for him, who ne'er gave rise to tears;
His requiem be an echo of his song.
The venerable shadow flits along.
No tears for him, who ne'er gave rise to tears;
His requiem be an echo of his song.
| The Battle-Day and Other Poems | |