OF ALL the wind-blown dust of faces fair, Had I a god's re-animating breath, Thee, like a perfumed torch in the dim air Lethean and the eyeless halls of death, Would I relume; the cresset of thine hair, Furiously bright, should stream across the gloom, And thy deep violet eyes again should bloom. Methinks that but a pinch of thy wild dust, Blown back to flame, would set our world on fire; Thy face amid our timid counsels thrust Would light us back to glory and desire, And swords flash forth that now ignobly rust; Maenad and Muse, upon thy lips of flame Madness too wise might kiss a clod to fame. Like musk the charm of thee in the gray mould That lies on by-gone traffickings of state, Transformed a moment by that head of gold, Touching the paltry hour with splendid Fate; To "write the Constitution!" 'twere a cold, Dusty and bloomless immortality, Without that last wild dying thought of thee. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OUR GOOD PRESIDENT by PHOEBE CARY SLEEP AT SEA by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI MY PRAYER FOR TODAY by MAUD AKERS THE WAY THAT LOVERS USE by RUPERT BROOKE DROUGHT by MAXWELL STRUTHERS BURT TO MY SON by GEORGE GORDON BYRON |