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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=373471" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Wood-Spring To The Poet</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dawn-cool, dew-cool<br>Gleams the surface of my pool<br>Bird haunted, fern enchanted,<br>Where but tempered spirits rule;<br>Stars do not trace their mystic lines<br>In my confines;<br>I take a double night within my breast<br>A night of darkened heavens, a night of leaves,<br>And in the two-fold dark I hear the owl<br>Puff at his velvet horn<br>And the wolves howl.<br>Even daylight comes with a touch of gold<br>Not overbold,<br>And shows dwarf-cornel and the twin-flowers,<br>Below the balsam bowers,<br>Their tints enamelled in my dew-drop shield.<br>Too small even for a thirsty fawn<br>To quench upon,<br>I hold my crystal at one level<br>There where you see the liquid bevel<br>Break in silver and go free<br>Singing to its destiny.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Give, Poet, give!<br>Thus only shalt thou live.<br>Give! for 'tis thy joyous doom<br>To charm, to comfort, to illume.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Speak to the maiden and the child<br>With accents deep and mild,<br>Tell them of the world so wide<br>In words of wonder and pure pride,<br>Touched with the rapture of surprise<br>That dwells in a child angel's eyes,<br>Awed with the strangeness of new-birth,<br>When the flaming seraph sent<br>To lead him into Paradise,<br>Calls his name with the mother's voice<br>He has just ceased to hear on earth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Give to the youth his heart's content,<br>But power with prudence blent,<br>Thicken his sinews with love,<br>With courage his heart prove,<br>Till over his spirit shall roll<br>The vast wave of control.<br>In the cages and dens of strife,<br>Where men draw breath<br>Thick with a curse at the dear thing called life,<br>Give them courage to bear,<br>Strength to aspire and dare;<br>Give them hopes rooted in stone,<br>That the loveliest flowers take on,<br>Bind on their brows with a gesture free<br>The palm green bays of liberty.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Give to the mothers of men<br>The knowledge of joy in pain,<br>Give them the sense of reward<br>That grew in the breast of the Lord<br>On the dawn of the seventh morn;<br>For 'tis they who re-create the world<br>Whenever a child is born.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Give, Poet, give!<br>Give them songs that charm and fill<br>The soul with an alluring pleasure,<br>Prelusive to a deeper thrill,<br>A richer tone, a fuller measure;<br>Like voices, veiled with hidden treasure,<br>Of angels on a windy morning,<br>That first far off, then all together,<br>Come with a glorious clarion calling;<br>And when they swoon beneath the spell<br>Recapture them to hear the echoes<br>Falling--falling--falling.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To those stoned for the truth<br>Give ruth;<br>Give manna for the mourner's mouth<br>Sovereign as air;<br>For his heart's drouth<br>A prayer.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Give to dead souls that mock at life<br>Aweary of their cankered hearts,<br>Weary of sleep and weary of strife,<br>Weary of markets and of arts,--<br>Helve them a song of life,<br>Two-edged with joyous life,<br>Tempered trusty with life,<br>Proud pointed with wild life,<br>Plunge it as lightning plunges,<br>Stab them to life!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Give to those who grieve in secret,<br>Those who bear the sorrows of earth,<br>The deep unappeasable longings<br>Which beset them with throngings and throngings,<br>(As, on a windless night,<br>Through the fold of a dark mantle furled,<br>Gleams on our world, world after unknown world)<br>Give them peace,<br>Wide as the veil that hides God's face,<br>The pure plenitude of space,<br>In which our universe is but a glittering crease,--<br>Give them such peace.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Give, Poet, give!<br>Thus only shalt thou live:<br>Give as we give who are hidden<br>In myriad dimples of rock and fern;<br>Give as we give unbidden<br>To tarn and rillet and burn,<br>Where the lake dreams,<br>Where the fall is hurled,<br>Striving to sweeten<br>The oceans of the world.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Should my song for a moment cease,<br>Silence fall in the woodland peace;<br>Should I wilfully check the flow<br>Bubbling and dancing up from below;<br>Say to my heart be still--be still,<br>Let the murmur die with the rill;<br>Then should the glittering, grey sea-things<br>Sigh as they wallow the under springs;<br>Where the deep brine-pools used to lie<br>Deserts vast would stare at the sky,<br>And even thy rich heart<br>(O Poet, Poet!)<br>Even thy rich heart run dry.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Duncan+Campbell+Scott">Duncan Campbell Scott</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=373471" data-title="The Wood-Spring To The Poet de Duncan Campbell Scott" data-description="Dawn-cool, dew-cool
Gleams the surface of my pool
Bird haunted, fern enchanted,
Where but tempered spirits rule;
Stars do not trace their mystic lines
In my confines;
I take a double night within my breast
A night of darkened heavens, a night of l..."></div>
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