Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE DISCONTENT POET; A MASQUE, by RALPH WALDO EMERSON Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Lonely he sat, the men were strange Last Line: By the waters of life to seraphs heeding. Subject(s): Poetry & Poets | ||||||||
Lonely he sat, the men were strange The women all forbidden Too closely pent in narrow range Between two sleeps a short day's stealth Mid many ails a brittle health Counts his scant stock of native wealth By conscience sorely chidden His loves were sharp sharp pains Outlets to his thoughts were none A wandering fire within his veins His soul was smouldered & undone A cripple of God, half true, half formed, And by great sparks Promethean warmed Constrained by impotence to adjourn To infinite time his eager turn, His lot of action from the Urn. He by false usage pinned about No breath therein, no passage out, Cast wishful glances at the stars And wishful hailed the Ocean stream, "Merge me in the brute Universe Or lift to some diviner dream." Beside him sat enduring love: Upon him noble eyes did rest, Which for the genius that there strove The follies bore that it invest: They spoke not: for their earnest sense Outran the craft of eloquence: The holy lovers peaceful sate Through extacy inanimate As marble statues in a hall, Yet was their silence musical; The only plaints, the sole replies, Were those long looks of liquid eyes. Chorus Yon waterflags, yon sighing osier, A drop can shake, a breath can fan Maidens laugh & weep: Composure Is the pudency of man. Chorus Means, -- dear brother, ask them not; Soul's desire is means enow; Pure content is angels lot; Thine own theatre art thou. Poet I see your forms with deep content I know that ye are excellent; But will ye stay? I hear the rustle of wings Ye meditate what to say When ye go to quit me forever & aye. Chorus Brother, we are no phantom band, Brother accept this fatal hand Aches thy unbelieving heart With the fear that we must part? See all we are rooted here By one thought to one same sphere; From thyself thou canst not flee, From thyself no more can we. Poet Suns & stars their courses keep, But not angels of the deep; Day & night their turn observe, But the day of day may swerve. Is there warrant that the waves Of thought from their mysterious caves Will heap in me their highest tide In me therewith beatified? Unsure the ebb & flow of thought, -- The moon comes back, the spirit not. Chorus Brother, sweeter is the Law Than all the grace Love ever saw We are its suppliants. By it we Draw the breath of eternity: Serve thou it not for daily bread Serve it for pain & fear & dread. Love it, though it hide its light; By love behold the Sun at night; If the Law should thee forget, More enamoured serve it yet: Though it hate thee, -- suffer long, -- Put the Spirit in the wrong, -- That were a deed to sing in Eden, By the waters of life to Seraphs heeding. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ENVY OF OTHER PEOPLE'S POEMS by ROBERT HASS THE NINETEENTH CENTURY AS A SONG by ROBERT HASS THE FATALIST: TIME IS FILLED by LYN HEJINIAN OXOTA: A SHORT RUSSIAN NOVEL: CHAPTER 192 by LYN HEJINIAN LET ME TELL YOU WHAT A POEM BRINGS by JUAN FELIPE HERRERA JUNE JOURNALS 6/25/88 by JUAN FELIPE HERRERA FOLLOW ROZEWICZ by JUAN FELIPE HERRERA HAVING INTENDED TO MERELY PICK ON AN OIL COMPANY, THE POEM GOES AWRY by HICOK. BOB |
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