Furnley Maurice

Furnley Maurice Poems

The Best Poem Of Furnley Maurice

The Ghost

Gird you no more at poets. They have sought
To utter the unutterable joy.
The gesture breaks the dream; acts ruin thought,
Whose color is debased with gross alloy.

A leaping horse, a sea-pool clear and cold,
Night or her stars - these have not found a name.
The rose is barbarous yet: and who has told
The frightful grandeur of a leaping flame?

Men have grown used to glory, let it pass
Im powerless lassitude - vain, oh, so vain!
Are swept with glory as the wind the grass,
Drink and are silent as the rose the rain.

But poets, being fools, are not content:
They will name mysteries and utter most
Unutterable things; their blood is spent
In Beauty 's woundings - Beauty that's a ghost.

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