Thomas William Heney

(1862 - 1928 / Australia)

To The Poet - Poem by Thomas William Heney

WHAT cares the rose if the buds which are its pride
Be plucked for the breast of the dead or the hands of a bride?

The mother-drift if its pebbles be dull inglorious things,
Or diamonds fit to shine from the diadems of kings?

Sing, O poet, the moods of thy moments each
Perfect to thee whatever the meaning it reach.

Let the years find if it be as a soulless stone,
Or under the words which hide there be a glory alone.



Comments about To The Poet by Thomas William Heney

  • Gold Star - 9,770 Points Heather Wilkins (7/2/2013 5:58:00 PM)

    excellent write to the poet. each has his own style. (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: pride, rose, mother, alone



Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 1, 2004



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