Poems

ANGELS OF MERCY

VOL. I.

POEMS.

ART THOU A POET?

No classic tutor watched my lips,
Nor speech, with beauty fraught,
Refined my uncouth mother-tongue,
Or wooed my virgin thought.

I never cursed in college cell

The thought I could not brook,

Nor pored amid the antique page
For lore from musty book.

I never in the schools was made

A fool against my will,

Nor danced with dames in rich brocade

My studious hours to kill.

But I have loved, as all should love,

The whole of humankind,

And there are men of worth who know

How much I honour Mind.

And I have heard the wild-bird sing, High up the vault of heaven, Till there, on Inspiration's wing,

I felt my spirit driven.

And I have heard old Ocean roar,
Whilst wonder seized my soul,

And bound me to the rocky shore,
To watch his billows roll.

And I have learnt to look on earth

As if she lay in bliss,

And bless each flow'ret of her birth

With an admiring kiss;

Till zephyrs seemed as angels' breath, And stars as cherubs' eyes,

And Beauty as no child of death,

But goddess of the skies.

At length I learnt to look above,

And found life's pilgrim-road

Was but a path of heavenly love,
That led right up to God.

I took my lyre and dashed its strings,
And music, wild and free,

Sent forth the tuneful echoings
Of Nature's minstrelsy.

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