Lord Alfred Douglas

(1870 - 1945 / England)

The Dead Poet - Poem by Lord Alfred Douglas

I dreamed of him last night, I saw his face
All radiant and unshadowed of distress,
And as of old, in music measureless,
I heard his golden voice and marked him trace
Under the common thing the hidden grace,
And conjure wonder out of emptiness,
Till mean things put on beauty like a dress
And all the world was an enchanted place.

And then methought outside a fast locked gate
I mourned the loss of unrecorded words,
Forgotten tales and mysteries half said,
Wonders that might have been articulate,
And voiceless thoughts like murdered singing birds.
And so I woke and knew that he was dead.


Comments about The Dead Poet by Lord Alfred Douglas

  • Rookie Shaikyu Yun (3/14/2010 10:12:00 AM)

    I like it. I wonder who he wrote it for? Wilde.. nah... (Report) Reply

    2 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • Rookie Sarah Albany Parker (8/13/2009 3:15:00 AM)

    This almost made me cry.....
    Why don't more people know about his poetry? (Report) Reply

Read all 2 comments »



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Read poems about / on: loss, music, beauty, world, night, murder, dream



Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 1, 2004



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