Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

A WREATH OF HOLLY, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: I long to spread my tiny wings
Last Line: Twill come if't must in floods of gore.


I long to spread my tiny wings,
And soar away on fancy bright;
Or stopping at Parnassus' springs,
Drink in his streams of liquid light.
I long -- Oh pray forgive the folly --
Tho' sable hue bedeck my brow;
To wear like Burns, a wreath of holly: --
The inspired muse of Mossgiel's plow.
Or wildly at my touch, the Lyre
Its tones in vivid transport yield;
The crashing sound, the lightning fire
Of Afric's favor'd bard Whitfield.
Perchance my muse by perseverance,
Soul crushing bars, and doubts may brave:
And soar on eagle's wings like Terrance,
The chainless hearted Roman slave.
Not that I would be wafted light,
Upon the breath of transient fame;
But strong in cause of GOD and right,
Would win like them a deathless name.
May sing of wrongs by man inflicted,
On brothers of a common blood;
The crimes by pen ne'er half depicted,
Of children of one brotherhood.
Of war, of pillage, artful knavery,
And last and blackest of the train;
Thou foul man-scourge! soul crushing slavery,
Who feed on hearts, and feasts on brain.
Oh man! thou living marble statue;
What tho' thy brothers cast in bronze?
He's not disowned of loving nature;
God loves whom thou poor earthworm scorns.
Think ye that power, arts or treasure,
Can shield thee from impending wrath,
If ye invoke God's stern displeasure
By walking iniquity's path?
Oh hear ye not the direful warning,
Of freedom's poet, bold Whittier;
Of earthquakes underneath ye yawning?
'Hear ye no warnings in the air'?
Or feel ye not the burning satire, --
When gazing on your pile of glory --
Which streams from Lowell's pen of fire,
And lives in his poetic story;
The mockery of cloud-capped spires,
To celebrate your sire's graves;
While smothering freedom's altar-fires,
Which burns in hearts of trampled slaves.
But freedom's morn is faintly dawning,
In love and peace; or as of yore, --
Oh list to Monticello's warning --
'Twill come if't must in floods of gore.





Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!


Other Poems of Interest...
Home: PoetryExplorer.net