Poets' Corner Home Page . News and Recent Additions
- BESIDE the dusty road of life,
- Deflower'd with toil and foul with strife,
- Lie hid within a charm of dew
- Pure harbours made for me and you.
- In such a shadowy nook is set
- Rest's purple-winged violet;
- It nods upon the fitful breeze
- Born in the fount's interstices;--
- That fount of joy for travellers made,
- Ensconc'd within a dappled shade,
- Where still its wings our violet lifts
- Beneath the pulsing air that shifts;--
- The little fount that bubbles there
- Under a veil of maiden-hair,
- And coils through many a liquid fold
- Its crystal waters dusk and cold.
- So small the fount, a hidden thing,--
- So weak the violet's throbbing wing,--
- The haughty world in dust rides by,
- Without a thought, without a sigh.
- Loud, in a riot of speed and glare,
- About their noisy work men fare;
- With shriek of engine, yell of horn,
- They glorify a world new-born.
- We love the old, the timid ways,
- The loose bough shutting out the blaze,
- The murmur of an ancient rhyme,
- Heard faintly in the ear of Time.
- And spirits, here and there, who still
- Prefer the mill-stream to the mill,
- To riot, quiet, and to speed
- The dance of rooted water-weed.
- Across a rood or two of grass,
- Unseen, into our realm will pass,
- Will lean above the whispering spring,
- And hear the hidden runnel sing.
- And then the crimson cheek will choose
- The rainbow of the pulsing dews;
- Then silence calm the 'wilder'd brain,
- And life grow sanctified again.
- Sir Edmund William Gosse
Poets' Corner .
H O M E .
©2000 Poets' Corner Editorial Staff, All Rights Reserved Worldwide