Poems you ought to know . ks the night grows thin and gray;I wait and watch the eastern skiesTo see the golden spears upriseBeneath the oriflamme of day! Like one whose limbs are bound in tranceI hear the day-sounds swell and see across the twilight glance,Troop after troop, in swift advance,The shining ones with plumes of snowl I know the errand of their feet, I know what mighty work is theirs;I can but lift up hands unmeetThe thrashing floors of God to beat,And speed them with unworthy prayers. I will not dream in vain despair, The steps of progress wait for me;The puny leverage of
Poems you ought to know . ks the night grows thin and gray;I wait and watch the eastern skiesTo see the golden spears upriseBeneath the oriflamme of day! Like one whose limbs are bound in tranceI hear the day-sounds swell and see across the twilight glance,Troop after troop, in swift advance,The shining ones with plumes of snowl I know the errand of their feet, I know what mighty work is theirs;I can but lift up hands unmeetThe thrashing floors of God to beat,And speed them with unworthy prayers. I will not dream in vain despair, The steps of progress wait for me;The puny leverage of a hairThe planets impulse well may spare,A drop of dew the tided sea. The loss, if loss there be, is mine; And yet not mine if understood;DFor one shall grasp and one resign,One drink lifes rue, and one its wine, And God shall make the balance good. O, power to do! O, baffled will! O, prayer and action! ye are may not strive may yet fulfillThe harder task of standing still. And good but wished with God is done!136. A MATCH. BY ALGERNON CHAELES SWINBURNE. This poem is an excellent example of Swinburnes wonderful invent-iveness in the meter of his verses. If love were what the rose is,And I were Hke the leaf,Our lives would grow togetherIn sad or singing fields or flowerful closes,Green pleasure or gray grief;If love were what the rose is,And I were like the leaf. If you were thrall to I were page to joy,Wed play for lives and seasonsWith loving looks and treasonsAnd tears of night and morrowAnd laughs of maid and boy;If you were thrall to sorrow,And I were page to joy. If you were Aprils I were lord in May,Wed throw with leaves for hoursAnd draw for days with flowers,Till day, like night, were night were bright like day;If you were Aprils I were lord in May.
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