Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TO CHATTERTON, by WILLIAM ALEXANDER PERCY


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

TO CHATTERTON, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Immortal boy! Whose years scarce reached my own
Last Line: Have I, and still my fields are green and wet.
Subject(s): Death; Fear; Fortune; Life; Soul; Dead, The


Immortal boy! whose years scarce reached my own,
And yet were filled with all the kinless grief
Devolving on old age, without relief
Of stagnant brain, of nerveless blood and bone --
At dusk, when wind-swept autumn woods are lone,
I, who of Fortune's bounty am the thief,
Gold-filled, I muse upon thy life, so brief,
So passionate, and, envying thee, I moan.
For dreaming thus, there comes a specter thought
Which fastens on my soul and leaves it grey
With fear. If Death, who found thy field so fraught
With golden harvest, now to me should say
"Enough, 'tis Autumn" -- God! no harvest yet
Have I, and still my fields are green and wet.





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