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■ I know what you're thinking, father
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2008-02-03 | | Submited by Madalina Ionescu
To drift with every passion till my soul
Is a stringed lute on which all winds can play, Is it for this that I have given away Mine ancient wisdom, and austere control? Methinks my life is a twice-written scroll Scrawled over on some boyish holiday With idle songs for pipe and virelay, Which do but mar the secret of the whole. Surely there was a time I might have trod The sunlit heights, and from life's dissonance Struck one clear chord to reach the ears of God. Is that time dead?lo! with a little rod I did but touch the honey of romance And must I lose a soul's inheritance?
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