[Editor: This poem by William Blocksidge (also known as William Baylebridge) was published in Songs o’ the South (1908).]
On Love
Fountain of noble Truth and deathless Fame,
Dwelling with Pain and yet with holy Joy,
Filling the souls of men with sacred flame,
Purging the heart of every base alloy —
Thus find we Love, though bound in bosom strong
Or locked in sweet jail of some lady’s breast —
A magic power, that truly doth belong
To high and low, and in like garment dressed.
First heaven-born, thence poured in human kinds;
Of ancient date, and yet old Time above;
Immortal fruits of many-sided minds
Might mould the age; but what may conquer Love?
Great power, that burden of true pleasure brings,
Thou makest all men equal, clowns and kings!
Source:
William Blocksidge, Songs o’ the South, London: Watts, 1908, p. 54
Editor’s notes:
doth = (archaic) does
makest = (archaic) make
thou = (archaic) you
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