I would not be a dogmatist, Banging a heavy, hairy fist To crack the pint-pots on the table. But I would dream as I am able And noose God's wonders in a twist Of quaintest thought and rippled rhyme; By happy turns of fortunate phrase Would capture Faith, and teach stern Time To mend his ways. I have heard out the burning boys, And now they tire me with their noise. Where there's intense belief, why scoff it? But rare's the code and rare's the prophet With the sincere, authentic voice; And all may rattle iron-ware Or fling a torch, Salmoneus-like, Crying "It thunders -- lightens!" ere Real lightnings strike. They premise and they start to "prove"; And then you're in another groove As narrow as the one disputed. Another moiety fitly suited, -- But all the world? -- all men approve The self-same set of able rules? I've yet to see them. So, for me, Dreams and vast wonderment; a fool's Wisdom, maybe! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THIRD BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 26. FIRST LOVE by THOMAS CAMPION DEAD COW FARM by ROBERT RANKE GRAVES TO HIS WINDING-SHEET by ROBERT HERRICK EPITAPHIUM CITHARISTRIAE by VICTOR GUSTAVE PLARR SONG, FR. THE TWO GENTELEM OF VERONA by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE SONNET: 5 by RICHARD BARNFIELD |