Poem by Alice Meynell

To Antiquity

 "... REVERENCE FOR OUR FATHERS, WITH THEIR
      STORES OF EXPERIENCES"

                    An author whose name I did not note

O our young ancestor,
    Our boy in Letters, how we trudge oppressed
With our "experiences," and you of yore
    Flew light, and blessed!

Youngling, in your new town,
    Tight, like a box of toys—the town that is
Our shattered, open ruin, with its crown
    Of histories;

You with your morning words,
    Fresh from the night, your yet un-sonneted moon,
Your passion undismayed, cool as a bird's
    Ignorant tune;

O youngling! how is this?
    Your poems are not wearied yet, not dead,
Must I bow low? or, With an envious kiss,
    Put you to bed?

1. Two Boyhoods
2. Singers to Come
3. To the Body
4. November Blue
5. The Watershed (for R. T.)

Print

1606 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version