 | Youthful Verses by Francis Thompson |  |
5
SONG OF THE NEGLECTED POET.
Still, be still within my breast, thou ever, ever wailing heart;
Hush, O hush within my bosom, beating, beating heart of mine!
Lay aside thy useless grief and brood not o'er thy aching smart.
Wherefore but for sick hearts, healing, came down Poesy divine?
Hush, O hush within my bosom, beating, beating heart of mine!
Lay aside thy useless grief and brood not o'er thy aching smart.
Wherefore but for sick hearts, healing, came down Poesy divine?
Mourn not, soul, o'er hopes departed, efforts spent, and spent in vain;
On a glorious strife we entered, and 'twas for a priceless stake;
Well 'twas foughten, well we've struggled, and, though all our hopes are slain,
Yet, my soul, we have a treasure not the banded world can take.
On a glorious strife we entered, and 'twas for a priceless stake;
Well 'twas foughten, well we've struggled, and, though all our hopes are slain,
Yet, my soul, we have a treasure not the banded world can take.
Poesy, that glorious treasure! Poesy, my own for e'er!
Mine and thine, my soul, for ever, ours though all else may be gone;
Like the Sun it shone upon us when our life began so fair,
Like the Moon it stays to cheer us now our night is almost done.
Mine and thine, my soul, for ever, ours though all else may be gone;
Like the Sun it shone upon us when our life began so fair,
Like the Moon it stays to cheer us now our night is almost done.
Think, my Soul, how we were happy with it in the days of yore,
When upon the golden mountains we saw throned the mighty Sun,
When the gracious Moon at night time taught us deep and mystic lore,
And the holy, wise old forests spoke to us and us alone.
When upon the golden mountains we saw throned the mighty Sun,
When the gracious Moon at night time taught us deep and mystic lore,
And the holy, wise old forests spoke to us and us alone.
When the streamlet tinkled gladness all to us, and none beside;
When for us the sweet birds flooded air with gurgling rapture wild:
When there was no living creature that would from our presence glide,
For they knew the Poet brother unto Nature's every child.
When for us the sweet birds flooded air with gurgling rapture wild:
When there was no living creature that would from our presence glide,
For they knew the Poet brother unto Nature's every child.
Yes, I loved them! And not least I loved to look on Ocean's face,
When he lay in peace sublime and evening's shades were stealing on,
When his child, the King of Light, from Heaven stooped to his embrace,
And his locks were tangled with the golden tresses of the Sun,
When he lay in peace sublime and evening's shades were stealing on,
When his child, the King of Light, from Heaven stooped to his embrace,
And his locks were tangled with the golden tresses of the Sun,
Such thoughts, Soul, are now our treasures, such the joys that we have left;
O my Soul, and who shall dare to call us wretched and forlorn?
What though honours, riches, pleasures, human hopes, all,—all are reft?
'Midst the past years' garnered memories we can laugh the world to scorn.
O my Soul, and who shall dare to call us wretched and forlorn?
What though honours, riches, pleasures, human hopes, all,—all are reft?
'Midst the past years' garnered memories we can laugh the world to scorn.
| Youthful Verses by Francis Thompson | |