WITH ESTHER
by: Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
(1840-1922)
- E who
has once been happy is for aye
- Out of destruction's reach. His fortune then
- Holds nothing secret; and Eternity,
- Which is a mystery to other men,
- Has like a woman given him its joy.
- Time is his conquest. Life, if it should fret,
- Has paid him tribute. He can bear to die,
- He who has once been happy! When I set
- The world before me and survey its range,
- Its mean ambitions, its scant fantasies,
- The shreds of pleasure which for lack of change
- Men wrap around them and call happiness,
- The poor delights which are the tale and sum
- Of the world's courage in its martyrdom;
-
- When I hear laughter from a tavern door,
- When I see crowds agape and in the rain
- Watching on tiptoe and with stifled roar
- To see a rocket fired or a bull slain,
- When misers handle gold, when orators
- Touch strong men's hearts with glory till they weep,
- When cities deck their streets for barren wars
- Which have laid waste their youth, and when I keep
- Calmly the count of my own life and see
- On what poor stuff my manhood's dreams were fed
- Till I too learn'd what dole of vanity
- Will serve a human soul for daily bread,
- --Then I remember that I once was young
- And lived with Esther the world's gods among.
"With Esther" is reprinted
from The Oxford book of English Verse. Ed. Arthur Thomas
Quiller-Couch. Oxford: Clarendon, 1919. |
MORE POEMS BY WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |
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