Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

(1840 - 1922 / England)

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
404. A Dream 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
Best Poem of Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

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 ...

Read the full of Laughter And Death

The Desolate City

DARK to me is the earth. Dark to me are the heavens.
   Where is she that I loved, the woman with eyes like stars?
Desolate are the streets. Desolate is the city.
   A city taken by storm, where none are left but the slain.

Sadly I rose at dawn, undid the latch of my shutters,
   Thinking to let in light, but I only let in love.
Birds in the boughs were awake; I listen'd to their chaunting;
   Each one sang to his love;

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