The Mockers and other Verses By Jane Barlow |
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WASTE |
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 | The Mockers and other Verses |  |
84
WASTE
He who, bound on mortal's quest,
Wanders wistful-eyed,
Tastes not fortune's bitterest
In desire denied,
Till where rich boughs waste in sight
Goes he hungering,
Sighs he fettered whence deft flight
Witless finches wing.
Wanders wistful-eyed,
Tastes not fortune's bitterest
In desire denied,
Till where rich boughs waste in sight
Goes he hungering,
Sighs he fettered whence deft flight
Witless finches wing.
Even as one that fares at noon
Faint in sun-smit ways,
Craving sore a moment's boon
Of cloud-stinted rays:
Whom the fierce airs' fiery deeps
Hold, nor once will free,
While the cliffs' cold shadow creeps
O'er a thankless sea.
Faint in sun-smit ways,
Craving sore a moment's boon
Of cloud-stinted rays:
Whom the fierce airs' fiery deeps
Hold, nor once will free,
While the cliffs' cold shadow creeps
O'er a thankless sea.
| The Mockers and other Verses | |