Papurau Newydd Cymru

Chwiliwch 15 miliwn o erthyglau papurau newydd Cymru

Cuddio Rhestr Erthyglau

15 erthygl ar y dudalen hon

THE POET AND HIS VOCATION.

Newyddion
Dyfynnu
Rhannu

THE POET AND HIS VOCATION. Poet, should I wish thee Such crowns as the world shapes with smiling lips For brows like thine? At noonday, when eclipse Clots out the sun in heaven, men gaze, and say, Great blessing art thou. Sun until thy ray Ceased thus untimely, ceTtes, little thought "as ours of all the glory thou hast brought To this our earth. Great blessing art then. Sun Great praise and worship hast thou nobly Wait, Poet, wait Till Death doth keep his state In thy closed chambers, and upon thine eyes His fixed immutable shadow deeply lies,— Wait,ul) thou hearest afar The seraph-anthem floating from God's heaven, Borne on from star to stai-— When life hath faded from thee like a dream, And all the gauds of life the vilest seem, Shall those world-crowns be given 1 But, Poet, I would give thee No scorn for such as these,—no lifting high Of a proud forehead. Meekly, patiently, Sing thou thy songs along the world's highways, Putting not from thee any meed of praise That grudging hands dole out: high task it thine; High recompense, if worthily and well Thy lays, with upward aspiration, swell The soul's brave utterance of the trath divine ;— High task, if only one poor human heart Be raised and cheered and strengthened by thine ait; High recompense, if not a voice be found I' the world to bless thee, angels catch the sound Of the eternal truth, and joy profound Fills all the courts of Heaven. Then, Poet, I would bid thee Thus nobly work. Content, for present gain, That all the beautiful of earth's domain Is thy great heritage ;—that unto thee A grander music soundeth from the sea,— A richer fragrance in the flower is shrined,— A softer murmur borne upon the wind,— Than greeteth this world s sense—that all are fraught With revelations to thy quickening thought. With solemn whispers of mysterious things, With stately fancies, fine imaginings;— And more, 0 Christian Poet! that all these Are but faint types and transient images Of an unfading beauty, that shall be Thine ever, through a glad eternity, When the world's tria! is o'er. Work on, work, Tarry not, rest not, till the crown is won Which suiteth livim; brows,—the holy crown, That, with its deathless, shadowless renown, J o Poet, I would wish thee T. W UTWOOD. Enfield, April 15th. «— My wife and child, came close to me, The world to us is a stormy sea With your hands in mine, if your eyes but shine, I care not how wild the storm may be. For the fiercest wind that ever blew Is nothing to me, so I shelter yow No warmth do 1 lack, for the howl atiny back Sings down to my heait," Man, bold and tme." A pleasant sail, my child my wife! O'er a pleasant sea, to many is life; The wind hlows warm, and they dread no storm, And wherever they go, kind friends arc rife. But, wife and child the love, the love, That lifteth us to the sainrs above, Could only have grown, where storms have blown, The truth and strength of the heart to prove. EBF.NEZEK JONES. —Critc.

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