John Moultrie Poems

Forget thee? If to dream by night and muse on thee by day;
If all the worship deep and wild a poet's heart can pay;
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Well won and glorious trophies have been thine,
Macaulay, since we two 'together stray'd'
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Sweet Babe, from griefs and dangers
Rest here for ever free;
We leave thy dust with strangers,
But oh, we leave not
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Many there be, in these our factious days,
Whose hate would unrelentingly lay low
Crown, coronet, and mitre, at a blow,
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Within two days, (if registers tell truth)
I and the nineteenth century were born;
Nor let me lightly such memorial scorn
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Alas! for those, whose bigot zeal would fain
Compress and crush, with Procrustean force,
All energies, all spirits fine and coarse,
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If aught of pastoral labour, not unblest,
Since youth's maturer prime I may have wrought;
If from the pressure of unquiet thought
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Three days had we been wedded, when we stood
Within thy well known walls, (my bride and I)
Majestic Ludlow; from a cloudless sky
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To patient study and unwearied thought,
And wise and watchful nurture of his powers,
Must the true poet consecrate his hours:
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My sister, we have lived long years apart,
Our mutual visits short and far between,
Like those of angels, yet we have not been
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