Edmund Wong Poems
Comments about Edmund Wong
Shall We Sally Forth For The Fabled Land
Shall we sally forth for the fabled land,
Against the siren in the musty haze
Where eyes look blind? There is no stave at hand
To guide us through that starless field or maze
But shapeless shades and a vacuous voice.
We peregrinate thus, waver in daze,
Now bawling, now deep-sighing for that choice.
How sweet if we can rest on Plato’s Bed,
Or luxuriate in that succulent quince
Redolent of that first spring- why, instead,
Being late, we are stuffed with hollow dreams!
Thou Art My Fifth Season
How jocund is Spring if thou art missing?
The nightingales' songs are sweetly sung,
Yet, unwarranted, disrupt my musing
On which thine apparition is up hung.
And what is Summer lacking thee, my dear?
Oft too hot he beams, like a wild fever,
Mellowed not by thy fountain pure of love;
Without thy fairness his humor is rough.