The Poet - Poem by Isabel Neidig
The proud and ecstatic poet on lofty ground
Stands . . . enthralled by diamonds waltzing on high.
Saucy hair, bewitched by the wind . . .
This poet vain, sings and sighs.
Beneath him, a silver thread zigzagging flows
Until engulfed in mother's fold.
His exalted spirit treasures this rhapsody.
His is the universe; his to hold.
Silhouetted against the moon appears a flaming light
In frightful wonder he gasps, "wha . . wha . . . what?"
"Be not afraid," he hears a whispered song.
"'Tis He, Who bestows to all His love!"
The poet meekly says, "Never more
Will I exult myself a lore!"
And humbly kneels upon the shore
Of Truth . . . in penitent robe,
Now a beggar, for Eternal Hope!
Comments about The Poet by Isabel Neidig
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Isabel Neidig's Other Poems
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You