OF ALL the wind-blown dust of faces fair, Had I a god's re-animating breath, Thee, like a perfumed torch in the dim air Lethean and the eyeless halls of death, Would I relume; the cresset of thine hair, Furiously bright, should stream across the gloom, And thy deep violet eyes again should bloom. Methinks that but a pinch of thy wild dust, Blown back to flame, would set our world on fire; Thy face amid our timid counsels thrust Would light us back to glory and desire, And swords flash forth that now ignobly rust; Maenad and Muse, upon thy lips of flame Madness too wise might kiss a clod to fame. Like musk the charm of thee in the gray mould That lies on by-gone traffickings of state, Transformed a moment by that head of gold, Touching the paltry hour with splendid Fate; To "write the Constitution!" 'twere a cold, Dusty and bloomless immortality, Without that last wild dying thought of thee. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A PORTRAIT OF MY ROOF by JAMES GALVIN STRANGE MEETINGS: 1 by HAROLD MONRO WALKEN HWOME AT NIGHT by WILLIAM BARNES BOUGHT WITH A PRICE by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON THE CEREMONY OF THE PRINTER'S APPRENTICE; A GERMAN MORALITY PLAY by WILLAM BLADES |