What my life's race is run And I have no prizes won?
What if the brief day is done And in west pales the setting sun?
Its mellow lustre, its parting glory Tell their own immortal story Once misty morn and winter hoary Melted beneath its glances gory.
What of that if I have failed A greater one was to the cross nailed So has the world its prophets hailed, My task was great, so success quailed
Adonis' grave and Dido's pyre Oh, how lovely thus to expire With one dream, one delight ,one desire. Oh for what unknown love my heart longs I have been victim of many wrongs I sing my sorrow in my songs I never moved amidst the throngs
I cared not for man's pretty schemes I lived in my own dreams, Loved little things and gentle themes And lonely walks by lovely streams.
What stayed with you?
A line that lingered, a feeling, a disagreement. Great comments are as valuable as the original piece.
Responses4
men become prophets only after coming undone. only the crucified make God the journey is the search of mystery not to solve the untold but to get entangled.
Thats brilliantly put ! Amazing!!
what,the comment or the poem! i'll go for the comment,especially the last 2 lines nearly killed me..
The poem is brilliant, poignant. It's the comment though that was so touching that I felt had to acknowledge its writer
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