Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

(1840 - 1922 / England)

The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part Iv: Vita Nova: Xcviii - Poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

A thousand bluebells blossom in the wood,
Shut in a tangled brake of briar roses,
And guarded well from every wanton foot,
A treasure by no eye of man beholden,
No eye but mine. No other tongue hath spoken
Out to the joyless world what hidden joys
Lie there untasted, mines of wealth unnoted,
While a starved world without lives blank and void.
--Ah, couldst thou know, poor wretch, what I have known,
See what I saw upon that bank enshrinèd,
Soft pity had not wholly left thy soul
And tears had dimmed thy hard eyes uninvited.
Eyes that are cruel--bright with hunger's brightness,
Hunger for beauty, solitude, and peace.
There hadst thou found a beauty and a silence,
Such as nor tongue can tell nor fancy dream.

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, April 13, 2010

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