John William Inchbold

(1830-1888 / England)

A Stranger


Whence hither come, and by what fortune led?
To bring such sweet content, such happy rest,
Have we not clear and mutual knowledge fed
In some far time or place? Come, let us test:
You list when groves a summer music breathe,
You think pure thoughts when white clouds sail the sky:
The violet is fairest in the wreath
Wherewith you deck love's years as they go by,
You smile at fruitless joys, though passing fair
To minds unnurtured in your simple ways;
Your heart has virtue's fruitful seeds closed there,
To bud and blossom in the adverse days:
Since I have told so much, let more be known,
If you such loving knowledge also own.

Submitted: Wednesday, October 13, 2010

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