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datatime: 2022-12-02 04:51:18 Author:HWRLoGtg

crown is Apollo's,

'Tis the faltering friend, an inanimate land, may drag a great soul


Whatever simple lives renew

Whose union is right reason:join they hands,

The bitten buds dared not unfold:

To see Life's formless offspring and subdue

A burly joy each creature swells

The river that reflective flows:

They rarely meet; one soars, one walks retired.

The heavens are out in fleeces,

The bitten buds dared not unfold:

So hard was earth an eyewink back:

The blotting cloud a dappled pack,

When ashen he lies and the poets arise to sing of the work he has

Future in trust.

And bird he starved, he stiffened worm;

Not the less is he nerved with the Labourer's resolute hope:that

Her shivering Spring feigned fast asleep,

Who sees what tomb a white night built,

That her sons over seas in a rally of praise may behold a thrice

But to vision alive under shallows of sight, lo, the Labourer's

A sightless heaven, a shaven land.

by him shall be written,

With sound of its own hungry quest;

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