Victor Daley Poems

Give thou a gift to me
From thy treasure-house, O sea!
Said a red-lipped laughing girl
While the summer yet was young;
...

If I were young as you, Sixteen,
And you were old as I,
I would not be as I have been,
You would not be so shy,
...

What shall a man remember
In days when he is old,
And Life is a dying ember,
And Fame a story told?
...

A child came singing through the dusty town
A song so sweet that all men stayed to hear,
Forgetting for a space their ancient fear
Of evil days and death and fortune's frown.
...

I am the Vision and the Dream
Of trembling Age, and yearning Youth;
I am the Sorceress Supreme.
I am Illusion; I am Truth.
...

I learnt the language of the birds,
A new St Francis I would be;
But, when I understood their words,
The birds were preaching unto me.
...

'Tis said that the Passion Flower,
With its figures of spear and sword
And hammer and nails, is a symbol
Of the Woe of our Blessed Lord.

So still in the Heart of Beauty
Has been hidden, since Life drew breath,
The sword and the spear of Anguish,
And the hammer and nails of Death.
...

Lo, upon the carpet, where
Throned upon a heap of slain
Blue-eyed dolls of beauty rare
(Ah, they pleaded all in vain!)
...

The narrow, thorny path he trod.
"Enter into My joy," said God.
The sad ascetic shook his head;
"I've lost all taste for joy," he said.
...

He sat beneath the curling vines
That round the gay verandah twined,
His forehead seamed with sorrow's lines,
An old man with a weary mind.
...