If I could but sail the bluebell sea
And ride the myriad tinkling waves
'Twould be the acme of this world's delight!
Unsullied blue, untainted by the factory smoke,
Blue as the sky that first succumbs to city belch,
A letter, writ upon the forest floor
For all to read who dare! Could I but sing
The song that's written there – sweeter still than poetry:
A Holy Writ that fades with the shortening of the days.
I must content myself to walk among
It's mute, mysterious words that touch
The very essence of my Being.
Margery Clute (1824-76)
If you missed the first installment, which provided some background information regarding Margery Clute's poetry, you can read it here.
11 months ago