Carol and Cadence New poems: MDCCCCII-MDCCCCVII: By John Payne |
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COWPER.
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 | Carol and Cadence |  |
COWPER.
Cowper, methinks, thy gentle name
Will longer yet than many shine
That fairlier on the roll of Fame
Are writ than thine:
Thy modest measures kiss the ear
Kindlier than many more sublime,
As, in the woods of winter-time,
The robin's flute
More dear
Is oft and in the memory still
Lingers, when many a song more shrill
Is mute.
Will longer yet than many shine
That fairlier on the roll of Fame
Are writ than thine:
Thy modest measures kiss the ear
Kindlier than many more sublime,
As, in the woods of winter-time,
188
More dear
Is oft and in the memory still
Lingers, when many a song more shrill
Is mute.
Another name with thine shall dure,
Thine, Newton, whose capacious heart
Fair friendship's use, Life's ills to cure,
Raised to an art:
The memory of thy gracious gift,
The spirit's wounds to salve and half
Fordo, in Cowper's cenotaph
Shall Time enbalm
And lift
To Heaven friend's and poet's name,
Two voices joining in one same
Clear psalm.
Thine, Newton, whose capacious heart
Fair friendship's use, Life's ills to cure,
Raised to an art:
The memory of thy gracious gift,
The spirit's wounds to salve and half
Fordo, in Cowper's cenotaph
Shall Time enbalm
And lift
To Heaven friend's and poet's name,
Two voices joining in one same
Clear psalm.
One thing, beside thy winsome word,
Cowper, my heart to thee doth draw,
Whereto the love of beast and bird
Is as Heav'n's law;
My creed, for which all things that be
One same soul quickens, beast and man,
Still for Creation's humbler clan
Thy kindness shares;
Like thee,
I scorn the “sport” that baits the brute;
And through the years my cats salute
Thy hares.
Cowper, my heart to thee doth draw,
Whereto the love of beast and bird
Is as Heav'n's law;
My creed, for which all things that be
One same soul quickens, beast and man,
Still for Creation's humbler clan
Thy kindness shares;
Like thee,
I scorn the “sport” that baits the brute;
And through the years my cats salute
Thy hares.
Thy life was covered with a cloud,
Whose shadow, well-nigh from thy birth,
Oppressed thee and too often bowed
Thy head to earth;
Thy peace was poisoned with a doubt
Lest thou in Heaven shouldst have no place
And sole of all be from God's grace,
Beneath the sun,
Cast out,
A fear lest hope for thee, poor wight,
Of finding favour in His sight
Were none.
Whose shadow, well-nigh from thy birth,
Oppressed thee and too often bowed
Thy head to earth;
Thy peace was poisoned with a doubt
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And sole of all be from God's grace,
Beneath the sun,
Cast out,
A fear lest hope for thee, poor wight,
Of finding favour in His sight
Were none.
Nay, tremble not, sad soul. Who here
Hath led, whilst yet the earth he trod,
So innocent a life need fear
No jealous God;
And to believe, indeed, 'twere hard
That in Our Father's house, in which
So many mansions are, no niche
To find for thee,
Sweet bard,
Kind chronicler of common things,
Whose homely verse to memory clings,
Might be.
Hath led, whilst yet the earth he trod,
So innocent a life need fear
No jealous God;
And to believe, indeed, 'twere hard
That in Our Father's house, in which
So many mansions are, no niche
To find for thee,
Sweet bard,
Kind chronicler of common things,
Whose homely verse to memory clings,
Might be.
| Carol and Cadence | |