Song-tide: poems and lyrics of love's joy and sorrow . wever, a penalty PHILIP BOURKE MARSTON. Ixxix incurred by early maturity, and it would not be wiseto assert that Marston escaped auglit of the stress of literature—a strife not lessinevitable, incessant, and remorseless than is everyinstant being perpetrated in the external world ofnature, from the fury for existence in the drop ofwater to the clashing of those starry sphereswhereby our own solar system retains its equipoise—there is no space for superfluity. Only a littlecan survive, and that little with a difficulty not les
Song-tide: poems and lyrics of love's joy and sorrow . wever, a penalty PHILIP BOURKE MARSTON. Ixxix incurred by early maturity, and it would not be wiseto assert that Marston escaped auglit of the stress of literature—a strife not lessinevitable, incessant, and remorseless than is everyinstant being perpetrated in the external world ofnature, from the fury for existence in the drop ofwater to the clashing of those starry sphereswhereby our own solar system retains its equipoise—there is no space for superfluity. Only a littlecan survive, and that little with a difficulty not lessthan the entry of the rich man into there is no room for all that PhilipBourke Marston has written, since there is nonefor many stronger if not sweeter singers thanhimself: but surely it were wrong, surely itwere an uncalled for deprivation of pleasurablemoments, to let pass into forgetfulnes the rare anddelicate music of a poet who at his best is a singerborn, and is of the company of those on Parnassus-hill. V/ILLIAM £arl^ Ipoems* PRELUDE, Hearst thou upon the shore line of thy lifs^ The beating of this song-tide led by thee^. As by the winds, and moon, is led the sea ? The clashing waves conjlictitig 7neet in strife^Bitter with tears of hopeless love they fall, and thunder, between sotd and sottl. Strange things are borne upon their foaming heights. Through wild, grey windy days, and shrieking nights ; Oer rocks and hidden shoals, round beacon foam is blown, till on thy shores at len^lhThey burst, in all the trouble of their strength. Sad things, O love I upon thy shore they cast—Waifs from the wreck of that fair dream of joyWith which the winds of Fortune love to toy. Whereto the waves seem kind, until at lastThe tempest burst upon it, in its m^ght;But through the utter darkness of the nighty The happy haven lights, shone calm and clear PRELUDE. Of that loved land so far, and yet so near. No voice 7uas left to call,
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880, bookpublisherlondo, bookyear1888
