Of the present frivolous regard of love
I seek to extol and rhapsodise here in no way:
I leave that trifle to those who are deaf to
The clarions of the true, blissful empyrean anthem.
And O! how that elevated of melodies has been
Chorused again and again, and always, in me.
It is the lilt of cherubim descended and embodied;
Yet twofold, and is the tenor of tyrannous torment,
That chides more than brings agony—if the paltry
Difference can e'en be distinguished in this respect!
And affliction of this song of songs feeds from naught
But my own timorousness, the most inferior of things.
What am I to do in the face of such warranted onslaught?
Shun the anthem, shut my ears? Or share in the song?
M.M. — December MMVII
No comments:
Post a Comment