Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, D.O. BARNETT, by CHARLES WILLIAM BRODRIBB



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D.O. BARNETT, by            
First Line: How well could I have spared for thee, young swain
Last Line: O strength whereof we are most ill bereft.
Subject(s): Memory


How well could I have spared for thee, young swain,
Words of immortal grief rise up unbidden—
Enow of such as on whose necks have ridden
Worse and more spiritual foes, Fear, grovelling Gain,
Sloth and the siren Senses, that make vain
God-given hands and eyes: from whom is hidden
The light whereby men live, though not unchidden
Inly they be, nor without flash of pain
When nobler natures fall. The weak are left,
Their fight unfought, their arm our insecure,
Their foe but gaining on them till the end:
And yet 'twas these thou wouldst at need defend,
O arm that for our sake wouldst all endure,
O strength whereof we are most ill bereft.





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