Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE MOTH, by RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES


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THE MOTH, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Parted from th' eternal presence
Last Line: And the light thy only home!
Alternate Author Name(s): Houghton, 1st Baron; Houghton, Lord
Subject(s): Moths


PARTED from th' eternal presence,
Into life the Soul is born,
In its fragmentary essence
Left unwittingly forlorn.

In the shrubbery's scented shadows
First the insect tries its wings,
In the evening's misty meadows
It pursues the faery rings.

Where the trelliced roses clamber,
And the jasmine peeps between,
Looks the gardener's lowly chamber
On the garden -- on the green.

Through the sultry veil of vapour,
Like a nearer nether star,
Shines the solitary taper,
Seen and known by friend afar.

Then the Moth, by strange attraction,
Leaves the garden, leaves the field,
Cannot rest in sweet inaction,
Cannot taste what earth can yield.

As the lov'd one to the lover,
As a treasure, once your own,
That you might some way recover,
Seems to him that fiery cone.

Round he whirls with pleasure tingling --
Shrinks aghast -- returns again --
Ever wildly intermingling
Deep delight and burning pain.

Highest nature wills the capture,
"Light to light" th' instinct cries,
And, in agonising rapture,
Falls the Moth, and bravely dies!

Think not what thou art, Believer;
Think but what thou may'st become;
For the World is thy deceiver,
And the Light thy only home!





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