I have never seen the sun walk in the dawn On a lawn While the lark sang, mad with rapture, as he came, Robed in flame, Racing, where the purple mountains' foreheads loom Through the gloom. Or noticed him at evening give the sea His last fee; Nor the burnished, ruddy, golden, peaceful sheen Tread the green; While the wood, with long and longer shadow, bends As he wends. And my lips shall never blow an oaten pipe, Nor the ripe, Glowing berries crush between them from the brake, Where they make Such a picture that the gods might know delight At the sight! For I've sat my life away with pen and rule On a stool; Totting little lines of figures; and so will, Tho' the chill And the languor of grey hairs upon my brow Mocks me now. And sometimes while I work I lift my eyes To the skies; To the foot or two of heaven which I trace In the space That a grimy window grudges to the spot Where I tot. And I ask the God who made me and the sun, What I've done To be buried in this dark and dreary cave, As in a grave, While the world laughs in scorn now and then At my pen! But I'll sit and work my utmost and not budge; Tho' a grudge Is ever growing in the bosom of a clod 'Gainst the God Who condemned him in his lifetime to grow fit For the pit. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...YOU MAY REMEMBER by LULU PIPER AIKEN SONG, FR. ARTAXERXES (OPERA) by THOMAS AUGUSTINE ARNE WORTH FOREST by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT VERSES, SPOKEN EXTEMPORE AT THE MEETING OF A CLUB by JOHN BYROM RELEASE by ADA CLARKE CARMICHIEL THE TAJ MAHAL by ANNIE ELIZABETH CHENEY TO THE REV. MR. NEWTON [RECTOR OF ST. MARY, WOOLNOTH] by WILLIAM COWPER |