Milton! I think thy spirit hath passed away
From these white cliffs and high-embattled towers;
This gorgeous fiery-coloured world of ours
Seems fallen into ashes dull and grey,
And the age changed unto a mimic play
Wherein we waste our else too-crowded hours:
For all our pomp and pageantry and powers
We are but fit to delve the common clay,
Seeing this little isle on which we stand,
This England, this sea-lion of the sea,
By ignorant demagogues is held in fee,
Who love her not: Dear God! is this the land
Which bare a triple empire in her hand
When Cromwell spake the word Democracy!
To Milton
Oscar Fingal O'flahertie Wills Wilde
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Poem topics: away, god, world, dear, white, play, spirit, stand, high, ignorant, common, waste, gorgeous, fallen, democracy, love, sea, I love you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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