TWO POEMS.
LEO. He looks so noble, People stand and admife His lifted brow, serene pose, and in his calm eyes The smouldering fira He has never laid His prey in the dust. No hunt, no kill, a tamo unthrilling life And an empty lust. Lust of love, of blood, But half awaked, Claws never unsheathed, tho great paw unlifted, And the thirst unslaked. Alas! for the man ; Alas! the bar and the chain; The steel sheathed, fire unkindled, tool idle, And tho rusting brain MORNING AND EVENING. Let us not envy Romo Hpr majestic veurs, Her hoary stones, her secular dust, her old soul. And her grev hairs. Such retrospect Seems vast to man. But in the whole story of earth it is nothing, a moment, A mere span. And the Alban Mount Is mine now; And the broad Campagna, and each huddling town, Perched on its brow. Youth is no theme For mocking or scorning. If hers is the umber and emerald sheen of a setting sun. Ours is the morning. A.W.
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Press, Volume LXVI, Issue 20026, 6 September 1930, Page 13
Word Count
174TWO POEMS. Press, Volume LXVI, Issue 20026, 6 September 1930, Page 13
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