"Come now," I said, "put off these webs of death,
Distract this leaden yearning of thine eyes
From lichened banks of peace, sad mysteries
Of dust fallen-in where passed the flitting breath:
Turn thy sick thoughts from him that slumbereth
In mouldered linen to the living skies,
The sun's bright-clouded principalities,
The salt deliciousness the sea-breeze hath!
"Lay thy warm hand on earth's cold clods and think
What exquisite greenness sprouts from these to grace
The moving fields of summer; on the brink
Of archë"d waves the sea-horizon trace,
Whence wheels night's galaxy; and in silence sink
The pride in rapture of life's dwelling-place!"
Bright Life
Walter De La Mare
(1)
Poem topics: breath, death, life, night, peace, pride, sad, sick, silence, summer, sun, rapture, earth, place, bright, cold, horizon, warm, dust, fallen, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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