Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, DISILLUSIONED, by MARCUS S. C. RICKARDS


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

DISILLUSIONED, by                    
First Line: We slumber in youth
Last Line: Of glory divine?
Subject(s): Earth; Life; Love; Youth; World


WE slumber in youth
To the pathos of Life,
Starting up to its truth
Oft mid anguish and strife.
Man's levity reft thee
of girlhood's fresh mirth:
A woman it left thee
To face a changed Earth.

Love shone on thy sleep
Like a dream of delight,
When faery spells steep
All in marvellous light:
Its witchery banished
Sane thought till Daybreak;
The vision has vanished
And thou art awake!

Awake -- and behind thee
The glory untold
Whose rays still half blind thee,
Whose fainting gleams fold
Thy spirit in splendour,
As warm afterglow
Wraps in hues soft and tender
The cold Alpine snow.

Ah! cold as bleak Earth
To thee soon must appear
When Dawn's languid birth
Grows to Light strong and clear:
Fresh roused from sweet slumber
With eyes wild and wet,
Art thou of the number
Whose hearts can forget?

Nay; thine, if I gauge it
Aright, is too true:
Will aught disengage it
From bitter review?
The image once traced
In firm lines will remain:
If ever effaced
It would haunt thee again.

O loath to surrender
A charm that has blessed!
Too constant, too tender,
For aught but unrest!
So flavourless all
That once made thee gay,
To a heart steeped in gall
What, what can I say?

This only -- the Power
Who moulds from above
Shaped all to this hour
Of lingering love --
Thus emptied of pleasure
To garnish for Joy --
Thus robbed thee, for Treasure
Unmarred by alloy.

Firm Joy, no emotion
Of varying mood --
Wealth won by devotion
To militant Good --
Strange virtue, rare beauty
In Piety lurk;
Balm lingers round Duty,
Grace circles true work.

A Morn glows before thee
Too brilliant for dreams:
The Sun that shines o'er thee
Mocks Sleep's fitful gleams:
If music could thrill thee
Born wholly of night,
Day's Anthems shall fill thee
With speechless delight.

Full long did'st thou languish
And breathe empty sighs:
Regret not the anguish
That opened thine eyes:
Nor rue the ideal
Still sceptred within,
If Good seem more real,
More worthy to win!

And what if the passion
That flames thy lorn breast
Serve more than to fashion
The soul to be blest --
Serve more in far days
Than a point sad and sweet
For the spirit's back gaze
And the heart's fond retreat.

What if Love be a token,
A prophecy sure,
Of union unbroken
Hereafter? nay, more,
What if true hearts once dreaming
In pureness like thine
See thro' shadows the streaming
Of Glory Divine?





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