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The Poet's Child Post by :goodoldoug Category :Poems Author :Abram Joseph Ryan Date :September 2011 Read :2482

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The Poet's Child

Lines addressed to the daughter of Richard Dalton Williams.

Child of the heart of a child of sweetest song!
The poet's blood flows through thy fresh pure veins;
Dost ever hear faint echoes float along
Thy days and dreams of thy dead father's strains?
Dost ever hear,
In mournful times,
With inner ear,
The strange sweet cadences of thy father's rhymes?

Child of a child of art, which Heaven doth give
To few, to very few as unto him!
His songs are wandering o'er the world, but live
In his child's heart, in some place lone and dim;
And nights and days
With vestal's eyes
And soundless sighs
Thou keepest watch above thy father's lays.

Child of a dreamer of dreams all unfulfilled --
(And thou art, child, a living dream of him) --
Dost ever feel thy spirit all enthrilled
With his lost dreams when summer days wane dim?
When suns go down,
Thou, song of the dead singer,
Dost sigh at eve and grieve
O'er the brow that paled before it won the crown?

Child of the patriot! Oh, how he loved his land!
And how he moaned o'er Erin's ev'ry wrong!
Child of the singer! he swept with purest hand
The octaves of all agonies, until his song
Sobbed o'er the sea;
And now through thee
It cometh to me,
Like a shadow song from some Gethsemane.

Child of the wanderer! and his heart the shrine
Where three loves blended into only one --
His God's, thy mother's, and his country's; and 'tis thine
To be the living ray of such a glorious sun.
His genius gleams,
My child, within thee,
And dim thy dreams
As stars on the midnight sea.

Child of thy father, I have read his songs --
Thou art the sweetest song he ever sung --
Peaceful as Psalms, but when his country's wrongs
Swept o'er his heart he stormed. And he was young;
He died too soon --
So men will say --
Before he reached Fame's noon;
His songs are letters in a book -- thou art their ray.

(The end)
Abram Joseph Ryan's poem: Poet's Child

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Via Amorosa Via Amorosa

Via Amorosa
(To A. H. R.)When we two walk, my love, on the path The moon makes over the sea,To the end of the world where sorrow hath An end that is ecstasy,Should we not think of the other road Of wearying dust and stoneOur feet would fare did each but care To follow the way alone?When we two slip at night to the skies And find one star that we keepAs a trysting-place to which our eyes May lead our souls ere sleep,Should we not pause for a little space And think how many must

Follow Me Follow Me

Follow Me
The Master's voice was sweet: "I gave My life for thee;Bear thou this cross thro' pain and loss, Arise and follow Me."I clasped it in my hand -- O Thou! who diedst for me,The day is bright, my step is light, 'Tis sweet to follow Thee!Through the long Summer days I followed lovingly;'Twas bliss to hear His voice so near, His glorious face to see.Down where the lilies pale Fringed the bright river's brim,In pastures green His steps were seen -- 'Twas sweet to follow Him!Oh, sweet to follow Him! Lord, let me here abide.The flowers were fair; I lingered there;