John William Inchbold
John William Inchbold Poems
|44.||The Eastern Love Song||10/13/2010|
|46.||The Lonely Life||10/13/2010|
|54.||With Love Dead||10/13/2010|
Mysterious force, as beautiful as strange,
And pure with beauty and with mystery,
Queen of the world in wide extent of range,
Through every motion of the sky and sea,
And the sweet mother of all joy, our Earth
Whether in moment of her snowy rest,
Or autumn eve, or summer noon, or birth
Of spring time o'er an Alpine mountain's crest,
To touch thy robe is life, but to receive
Thy touch of fiery lip, then pierce with eye
Made clear and strong, and afterwards to weave
With all our heart, fair forms that cannot die:—
This bliss supreme being ours, thine own free ...
The lone parched land still yearns for later rains,
The hopeless exile for a sight of home,
Those ever suffering ask a change of pains,—
The sea itself, when lashed to constant foam,
Seems pleading drearily for signs of peace:—
Ah constant grey that covers all the sky!
Ah cruel bitter winds that will not cease!
Ah tearful painful life, that cannot die!
Since flushed and fancy-nursed with hope and fear,