Why do you chide me that, when mortals yield
To slumber’s charm, from sleep I ask no boon,
But from my casement watch the maimëd moon
Fainting behind her ineffectual shield:
Unto the chime by stately planets pealed
My song, my soul, my very self attune,
And nightly see, what none can see at noon,
The runic volume of the sky unsealed?
Haply the hour may come when grateful Night
Will these brief vigils endlessly repay,
And, on the dwindling of my earthly day,
Keep, like her stars, my heavenly fancies bright;
And glorious dreamings, shrouded now from sight,
Dawn out of darkness, not to sleep for aye.
Alfred Austin (1835 –1913) was an English journalist and apoet who was appointed Poet Laureate in 1896, after an interval following the death of Tennyson, when the other candidates had either caused controversy or simply refused the honor. It was claimed that he was being rewarded for his support for the Conservative leader Lord Salisbury in the General Election of 1895.
Latest posts by Alfred Austin (see all)
- Love’s Wisdom poem – Alfred Austin - January 7, 2022
- Love’s Fitfulness poem – Alfred Austin - January 7, 2022
- Love Of Life poem – Alfred Austin - January 7, 2022
