WHERE are now the dreams divine,
Fires that lit the dawning soul,
As the ruddy colours shine
Through an opal aureole?
 

Moving in a joyous trance,
We were like the forest glooms
Rumorous of old romance,
Fraught with unimagined dooms.
 

Titans we or morning stars,
So we seemed in days of old,
Mingling in the giant wars
Fought afar in deeps of gold.
 

God, an elder brother dear,
Filled with kindly light our thought:
Many a radiant form was near
Whom our hearts remember not.
 

Would they know us now? I think
Old companions of the prime
From our garments well might shrink,
Muddied with the lees of Time.
 

Fade the heaven-assailing moods:
Slave to petty tasks I pine
For the quiet of the woods,
And the sunlight seems divine.
 

And I yearn to lay my head
Where the grass is green and sweet,
Mother, all the dreams are fled
From the tired child at thy feet.

Added: May 12 2003 | Viewed: 1166 times | Comments (0)

Poet: George William Russell
Poem: 126. 126. Weariness
Volume: Collected Poems by A.E.
Year: Published/Written in 1913
Poem of the Day on:
Nov 17 2005
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