Thomas Wade Poems

O FOR the mighty wakening that aroused
   The old-time Prophets to their missions high;
   And to blind Homer's inward sunlike eye
Show'd the heart's universe where he caroused
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I read of 'Julian' and 'Count Maddalo'
Till in their spirits' presence stood my soul;
And blending with their sympathy of woe
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Within a low-thatch'd hut, built in a lane
Whose narrow pathway tends toward the ocean,
A solitude which, save of some rude swain
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My piercéd life was all ablood with sorrow
For, suddenly, the veil of beauty thrown
By glorifying youth over sweet to-morrow
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