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Classic and Contemporary Poetry


THE STRANGER by RENE FRANCOIS ARMAND PRUDHOMME

First Line: I OFTEN WONDER WITH WHAT BLOOD DOTH BEAT
Last Line: WHO VEILS THE GLORY OF HIS LAND AND BLOOD.
Subject(s): GRIEF; STRANGERS; SORROW; SADNESS;

I OFTEN wonder with what blood doth beat
This truant heart that all delight doth tire,
These thoughts and feelings that unquenched aspire
As though unending bliss for them were meet.
Where is the paradise where thou hadst seat?
In what King's army hast thou taken hire?
Since vileness here doth flout thine eyes' desire,
What beauty is thy soul's right counterfeit?

Surely my sorrow for a heav'n unknown
And my divine disgust spring not unsown:
Vainly I grope within my heart of mud;
And aye bewildered by my sobbing breast,
Hearken the grief of my strange kingly guest
Who veils the glory of his land and blood.



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