Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Wilfrid Scawen Blunt Poems
|401.||Une Feuille Morte||4/13/2010|
|402.||Whom The Gods Love||4/13/2010|
|403.||Why Do I Love?||4/13/2010|
|404.||Wilt Thou Take Me For Thy Slave?||4/13/2010|
|405.||With Eternity Standing By||4/13/2010|
|407.||Written At Sea||4/13/2010|
|408.||You Have Let The Beauty Of The Day Go Over||4/13/2010|
|409.||Youth And Knowledge||4/13/2010|
Comments about Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
The Two Highwaymen
I LONG have had a quarrel set with Time
Because he robb'd me. Every day of life
Was wrested from me after bitter strife:
I never yet could see the sun go down
But I was angry in my heart, nor hear
The leaves fall in the wind without a tear
Over the dying summer. I have known
No truce with Time nor Time's accomplice, Death.
The fair world is the witness of a crime
Repeated every hour. For life and breath
Are sweet to all who live; and bitterly
The voices of these robbers of the heath
Sound in each ear and chill the passer-by. ...
Written At Florence
O WORLD, in very truth thou art too young;
When wilt thou learn to wear the garb of age?
World, with thy covering of yellow flowers,
Hast thou forgot what generations sprung
Out of thy loins and loved thee and are gone?
Hast thou no place in all their heritage
Where thou dost only weep, that I may come
Nor fear the mockery of thy yellow flowers?
O world, in very truth thou art too young.