Liner Notes
A POISON TREE
I WAS ANGRY WITH MY FRIEND:
I TOLD MY WRATH, MY WRATH DID END.
I WAS ANGRY WITH MY FOE:
I TOLD IT NOT, MY WRATH DID GROW.
AND I WATER'D IT IN FEARS,
NIGHT & MORNING WITH MY TEARS;
AND I SUNNED IT WITH SMILES,
AND WITH SOFT DECEITFUL WILES.
AND IT GREW BOTH DAY AND NIGHT,
TILL IT BORE AN APPLE BRIGHT;
AND MY FOE BEHELD IT SHINE,
AND HE KNEW THAT IT WAS MINE,
AND INTO MY GARDEN STOLE
WHEN THE NIGHT HAD VEIL'D THE POLE:
IN THE MORNING GLAD I SEE
MY FOE OUTSTRETCH'D BENEATH THE TREE.
A LITTLE GIRL LOST
CHILDREN OF THE FUTURE AGE
READING THIS INDIGNANT PAGE,
KNOW THAT IN A FORMER TIME
LOVE! SWEET LOVE! WAS THOUGHT A CRIME.
IN THE AGE OF GOLD,
FREE FROM WINTERS COLD,
YOUTH AND MAIDEN BRIGHT
TO THE HOLY LIGHT,
NAKED IN THE SUNNY BEAMS DELIGHT.
ONCE A YOUTHFUL PAIR,
FILL'D WITH SOFTEST CARE,
MET IN GARDEN BRIGHT
WHERE THE HOLY LIGHT
HAD JUST REMOV'D THE CURTAINS OF THE NIGHT.
THERE, IN RISING DAY,
ON THE GRASS THEY PLAY;
PARENTS WERE AFAR,
STRANGERS CAME NOT NEAR.
AND THE MAIDEN SOON FORGOT HER FEAR.
TIRED WITH KISSES SWEET,
THEY AGREE TO MEET
WHEN THE SILENT SLEEP
WAVES O'ER HEAVEN'S DEEP,
AND THE WEARY TIRED WANDERERS WEEP.
TO HER FATHER WHITE
CAME THE MAIDEN BRIGHT;
BUT HIS LOVING LOOK,
LIKE THE HOLY BOOK,
ALL HER TENDER LIMBS WITH TERROR SHOOK.
"ONA! PALE AND WEAK!
TO THY FATHER SPEAK:
O, THE TREMBLING FEAR!
O, THE DISMAL CARE!
THAT SHAKES THE BLOSSOMS OF MY HOARY HAIR."
LONDON
I WANDER THRO' EACH CARTER'D STREET,
NEAR WHERE THE CARTER'D THAMES DOES FLOW,
AND MARK IN EVERY FACE MEET
MARKS OF WEAKNESS, MARKS OF WOE.
IN EVERY CRY OF EVERY MAN,
IN EVERY INFANT'S CRY OF FEAR,
IN EVERY VOICE, IN EVERY BAN,
THE MIND-FORG'D MANACLES I HEAR.
HOW THE CHIMNEY-SWEEPER'S CRY
EVERY BLACK'NING CHURCH APPALLS;
AND THE HAPLESS SOLDIER'S SIGH
RUNS IN BLOOD DOWN PALACE WALLS.
BUT MOST THRO' MIDNIGHT STREETS I HEAR
HOW THE YOUTHFUL HARLOT'S CURSE
BLASTS THE NEW BORN INFANTS TEAR,
AND BLIGHTS WITH PLAGUES THE MARRIAGE HEARSE.
THE SICK ROSE
O ROSE, THOU ART SICK!
THE INVISIBLE WORM
THAT FLIES IN THE NIGHT.
IN THE HOWLING STORM,
HAS FOUND OUT THY BED
OF CRIMSON JOY,
AND HIS DARK SECRET LOVE
DOES THY LIFE DESTROY.
THE SCHOOLBOY
I LOVE TO RISE IN A SUMMER MORN
WHEN THE BIRDS SING ON EVERY TREE:
THE DISTANT HUNTSMAN WINDS HIS HORN,
AND THE SKY-LARK SINGS WITH ME.
O! WHAT SWEET COMPANY.
BUT TO GO TO SCHOOL IN A SUMMER MORN,
O! IT DRIVES ALL JOY AWAY;
UNDER A CRUEL EYE OUTWORN,
THE LITTLE ONES SPEND THE DAY
IN SIGHING AND DISMAY.
AH! THEN AT TIMES I DROOPING SIT,
AND SPEND MANY AN ANXIOUS HOUR.
NOR IN MY BOOK CAN I TAKE DELIGHT.
NOR SIT IN LEARNING'S BOWER,
WORN THRO' WITH THE DREARY SHOWER.
HOW CAN THE BIRD THAT IS BORN FOR JOY
SIT IN A CAGE AND SING?
HOW CAN A CHILD, WHEN FEARS ANNOY,
BUT DROOP HIS TENDER WING,
AND FORGET HIS YOUTHFUL SPRING?
O! FATHER & MOTHER, IF BUDS ARE NIP'D
AND BLOSSOMS BLOWN AWAY.
AND IF THE TENDER PLANTS ARE STRIP'D
OF THEIR JOY IN THE SPRINGING DAY,
BY SORROW AND CARE'S DISMAY,
HOW SHALL THE SUMMER ARISE IN JOY.
OR THE SUMMER FRUITS APPEAR?
OR HOW SHALL WE GATHER WHAT GRIEFS DESTROY,
OR BLESS THE MELLOWING YEAR.
WHEN THE BLASTS OF WINTER APPEAR?
THE HUMAN ABSTRACT
PITY WOULD BE NO MORE
IF WE DID NOT MAKE SOMEBODY POOR:
AND MERCY NO MORE COULD BE
IF I WERE AS HAPPY AS WE.
AND MUTUAL FEAR BRINGS PEACE
TILL THE SELFISH LOVES INCREASE.
THEN CRUELTY KNITS A SNARE.
AND SPREADS HIS BAITS WITH CARE.
HE SITS DOWN WITH HOLLY FEARS,
AND WATERS THE GROUND WITH 'EARS:
THEN HUMILITY TAKES ITS ROOT
UNDERNEATH HIS FOOT.
SOON SPREADS THE DISMAL SHADE
OF MYSTERY OVER HIS HEAD;
AND THE CATERPILLAR AND FLY
FEED ON THE MYSTERY.
AND IT BEARS THE FRUIT OF DECEIT,
RUDDY AND SWEET TO EAT;
AND THE RAVEN HIS NEST HAS MADE
IN ITS THICKEST SHADE.
THE GODS OF THE EARTH AND SEA
SOUGHT THRO' NATURE TO FIND THIS TREE:
BUT THEIR SEARCH WAS ALL IN VAIN,
THERE GROWS ONE IN THE HUMAN BRAIN.
THE FLY
LITTLE FLY,
THY SUMMER'S PLAY
MY THOUGHTLESS HAND
HAS BRUSH'D AWAY.
AM NOT I
A FLY LIKE THEE?
OR ART NOT THOU
A MAN LIKE ME?
FOR I DANCE,
AND DRINK, & SING.
TILL SOME BLIND HAND
SHALL BRUSH MY WING.
IF THOUGHT IS LIFE
AND STRENGTH & BREATH.
AND THE WANT
OF THOUGHT IS DEATH:
THEN AM I
A HAPPY FLY,
IF I LIVE
OR IF I DIE.
A DIVINE IMAGE
CRUELTY HAS A HUMAN HEART.
AND JEALOUSY A HUMAN FACE;
TERROR THE HUMAN FORM DIVINE.
AND SECRECY THE HUMAN DRESS.
THE HUMAN DRESS IS FORGED IRON,
THE HUMAN FORM A FIERY FORGE,
THE HUMAN FACE A FURNACE SEAL'D.
THE HUMAN HEART ITS HUNGRY GORGE.
|
