For we, which now behold these present days, Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.
For we, which now behold these present days, Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.
With Donne, whose muse on dromedary trots,Wreathe iron pokers into true-love knots;Rhyme's sturdy cripple, fancy's maze and clue,Wit's forge and fire-blast, meaning's press and screw. Here we find two brilliant poets wrapped into one poem. This poem is both highly amusing to me and quite intriguing. The more I look at, the more I love …
What needs my Shakespeare for his honoured bones,The labor of an age in pilèd stones,Or that his hallowed relics should be hidUnder a star-ypointing pyramid?Dear son of Memory, great heir of fame,What need’st thou such weak witness of thy name?Thou in our wonder and astonishmentHast built thyself a live-long monument.For whilst to th’ shame of …
"Wash me, and dry these bitter tears, O let my heart no further roam, ’Tis Thine by vows, and hopes, and fears. Long since—O call Thy wanderer home; To that dear home, safe in Thy wounded side, Where only broken hearts their sin and shame may hide."
“Yes—deep within and deeper yet The rankling shaft of conscience hide,Quick let the swelling eye forget The tears that in the heart abide.Calm be the voice, the aspect bold, No shuddering pass o’er lip or brow,For why should Innocence be told The pangs that guilty spirits bow? “The loving eye that watches thine Close as …