The Mockers and other Verses | ||
86
A SEED OF FIRE
Grown dusk the lane where long shadows drowse,
Blink fire-sparks twain 'twixt these hawthorn boughs,
But one in heaven's great deep, and one
A dwelling hath in a little dark house.
For yon had shed ere our world was wrought
Beams bright and dread above man's dim thought,
An ancient glory, a vast star-sun,
Through voids where atom-spanned earth is naught.
Blink fire-sparks twain 'twixt these hawthorn boughs,
But one in heaven's great deep, and one
A dwelling hath in a little dark house.
For yon had shed ere our world was wrought
Beams bright and dread above man's dim thought,
An ancient glory, a vast star-sun,
Through voids where atom-spanned earth is naught.
And this poor ray by a lone wife lit,
Whose heart keeps aye a fond hope in it,
Was set but now at her window-pane
To throb and flicker till night-glooms flit;
Lest haply her lad, who afar to roam
Went loth and sad o'er the western foam,
By darkling pathways fare nigh, full fain
Her lamp she kindles to light him home.
Whose heart keeps aye a fond hope in it,
Was set but now at her window-pane
To throb and flicker till night-glooms flit;
Lest haply her lad, who afar to roam
87
By darkling pathways fare nigh, full fain
Her lamp she kindles to light him home.
She grieved shall wake to the dawn-grey skies,
For lost dream's sake, as her low flame dies:
The star's fierce surges may ebb or burn,
Unwatched, unwept for of mortal eyes.
That sterile splendour, Æonian pyre,
What doom shall end or what heart desire?
The frail spark foldeth life's flower eterne,
A soul of love in its seed of fire.
For lost dream's sake, as her low flame dies:
The star's fierce surges may ebb or burn,
Unwatched, unwept for of mortal eyes.
That sterile splendour, Æonian pyre,
What doom shall end or what heart desire?
The frail spark foldeth life's flower eterne,
A soul of love in its seed of fire.
The Mockers and other Verses | ||