Collected Poems: With Autobiographical and Critical Fragments By Frederic W. H. Myers: Edited by his Wife Eveleen Myers |
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WOULD GOD IT WERE EVENING |
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 | Collected Poems: With Autobiographical and Critical Fragments |  |
210
WOULD GOD IT WERE EVENING
Imprisoned in the soul and in the sin,Imprisoned in the body and the pain,
The accustomed hateful memories within,
Without the accustomed limbs that ache again:—
Alas! a melancholy peace to win
With all their notes the nightingales complain,
And I such music as is mine begin,
Awake for nothing, and alive in vain.
I find few words and falter; then in scorn
My lips are silent; uncreate, unborn,
Evanishes the visionary lay;
While from clear air upon my soul forlorn
Falls thro' the heedless splendour of the morn
A sadness as the sadness of to-day.
| Collected Poems: With Autobiographical and Critical Fragments | |