Lord Alfred Douglas

(1870 - 1945 / England)

The Dead Poet - Poem by Lord Alfred Douglas

I dreamed of him last night, I saw his face
All radiant and unshadowed of distress,
And as of old, in music measureless,
I heard his golden voice and marked him trace
Under the common thing the hidden grace,
And conjure wonder out of emptiness,
Till mean things put on beauty like a dress
And all the world was an enchanted place.

And then methought outside a fast locked gate
I mourned the loss of unrecorded words,
Forgotten tales and mysteries half said,
Wonders that might have been articulate,
And voiceless thoughts like murdered singing birds.
And so I woke and knew that he was dead.

Comments about The Dead Poet by Lord Alfred Douglas

  • Frederick Kesner (3/8/2018 11:17:00 PM)

    Moving poignancy, of belatedly well thought of and most probably missed personality. (Report) Reply

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  • Rajnish Manga (8/23/2017 1:19:00 PM)

    This is a sincere tribute to a sensitive poet who creates the world of expression, music, beauty and grace. Thanks for sharing. (Report) Reply

  • Mohammed Asim Nehal (12/21/2015 6:43:00 AM)

    Heartfelt poem, nicely written...10 (Report) Reply

  • (3/14/2010 10:12:00 AM)

    I like it. I wonder who he wrote it for? Wilde.. nah... (Report) Reply

  • (8/13/2009 3:15:00 AM)

    This almost made me cry.....
    Why don't more people know about his poetry?
    (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: loss, music, beauty, world, night, murder, dream

Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 1, 2004

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