Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Wilfrid Scawen Blunt Poems
|401.||A Lesson In Humility||4/13/2010|
|402.||A Glory Gone||4/13/2010|
|403.||A Dream Of Good||4/13/2010|
|405.||A Digit Of The Moon||4/13/2010|
|406.||A Day In The Castle Of Envy||4/13/2010|
|407.||A Cuckoo Song||4/13/2010|
|408.||A Convent Wothout God||4/13/2010|
|409.||A Chaunt In Praise||4/13/2010|
|410.||A Ballad Of The Heather||4/13/2010|
Laughter And Death
THERE is no laughter in the natural world
Of beast or fish or bird, though no sad doubt
Of their futurity to them unfurled
Has dared to check the mirth-compelling shout.
The lion roars his solemn thunder out
To the sleeping woods. The eagle screams her cry.
Even the lark must strain a serious throat
To hurl his blest defiance at the sky.
Fear, anger, jealousy, have found a voice.
Love’s pain or rapture the brute bosoms swell.
Nature has symbols for her nobler joys,
Her nobler sorrows. Who had dared foretell
That only man, by some sad ...
To The Same
I WOULD I had thy courage, dear, to face
This bankruptcy of love, and greet despair
With smiling eyes and unconcerned embrace,
And these few words of banter at “dull care.”
I would that I could sing and comb my hair
Like thee the morning through, and choose my dress,
And gravely argue what I best should wear,
A shade of ribbon or a fold of lace.
I would I had thy courage and thy peace,