Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Wilfrid Scawen Blunt Poems
|401.||Why Do I Love?||4/13/2010|
|402.||Wilt Thou Take Me For Thy Slave?||4/13/2010|
|404.||With Eternity Standing By||4/13/2010|
|406.||Written At Florence||1/4/2003|
|407.||Written At Sea||4/13/2010|
|408.||You Have Let The Beauty Of The Day Go Over||4/13/2010|
|409.||Youth And Knowledge||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 ...
The Two Highwaymen
I LONG have had a quarrel set with Time
Because he robb'd me. Every day of life
Was wrested from me after bitter strife:
I never yet could see the sun go down
But I was angry in my heart, nor hear
The leaves fall in the wind without a tear
Over the dying summer. I have known
No truce with Time nor Time's accomplice, Death.
The fair world is the witness of a crime