THE WILL OF THE MAD POET
INOW being sane, do will and devise
That these shall be given at my demise.
That these shall be given at my demise.
I give unto the children of all time,
The gladness of the morning in its prime;
The smiling fields which glisten in the Light
That radiant springs from out the arms of Night.
The song of birds; and, all the myriad sounds
That echo from the brooklet as it bounds
To join the rushing river in its race
To lose itself within the sea's embrace!
The singing of the lark at roseate dawn
Trilling a joyous welcome to the morn.
The fleecy clouds that chase o'er Heaven's bluet
Making the vault of a diviner hue;
The Shadows that chase after, without heed
Of buttercups, and daisies in the meed.
The gladness of the morning in its prime;
The smiling fields which glisten in the Light
That radiant springs from out the arms of Night.
The song of birds; and, all the myriad sounds
That echo from the brooklet as it bounds
To join the rushing river in its race
To lose itself within the sea's embrace!
The singing of the lark at roseate dawn
Trilling a joyous welcome to the morn.
The fleecy clouds that chase o'er Heaven's bluet
Making the vault of a diviner hue;
The Shadows that chase after, without heed
Of buttercups, and daisies in the meed.
To little Babes, the Mother's lovelit eyes
Whose tenderness makes Earth a Paradise.
Whose tenderness makes Earth a Paradise.
To Lovers shall I give their heart's delight;
The quiet spaces, and the silent Night.
Fair lilies, and the red rose of desire
That with sweet passion virgin souls inspire.
The quiet spaces, and the silent Night.
Fair lilies, and the red rose of desire
That with sweet passion virgin souls inspire.
