Francis William Lauderdale Adams
Francis William Lauderdale Adams Poems
|82.||To John Ruskin||4/20/2010|
|83.||To Karl Marx||4/20/2010|
|84.||To Queen Victoria In England||4/20/2010|
|85.||To Sydney Jephcott||4/20/2010|
|86.||To The Christians||4/20/2010|
|87.||To The Emperor William I||4/20/2010|
|88.||To The Girls Of The Unions||4/20/2010|
|89.||To The Sons Of Labour||4/20/2010|
|91.||Why He Loves Her||4/20/2010|
'YES, let Art go, if it must be
That with it men must starve —
If Music, Painting, Poetry
Spring from the wasted hearth!'
Yes, let Art go, till once again
Through fearless heads and hands
The toil of millions and the pain
Be passed from out the lands:
Till from the few their plunder falls
To those who've toiled and earned
But misery's hopeless intervals
From those who've robbed and spurned.
Yes, let Art go, without a fear,
Like Autumn flowers we burn,
For, with her reawakening year,
Be sure she will return! —
Return, but greater, nobler ...
It is something in this darker dream demented
to have wrestled with its pleasure and its pain:
it is something to have sinned, and have repented:
it is something to have failed, and tried again!
It is something to have loved the brightest Beauty
with no hope of aught but silence for your vow:
it is something to have tried to do your duty:
it is something to be trying, trying now!