Poem by Louisa Sarah Bevington

To a Critic

NO theme for song--you say--the strength of man?
Only his tyrant passion? Man, the slave,
Fit theme for hymning? Never man, the brave,
Whose eye roves widely, clear as eagle-scan,
With vowed decision to fight out the plan
Of mercy stedfastly, and sorrow save,--
Who taketh will for sword, and hope for stave,
And frowns down passion as a master can?

Nay, give not whimpering lovers all the lays!
Too long their tears have sodden soft your art,
Till songs and sighs scarce know themselves apart,
And the sweet Easiest wins the proudest praise.
Let music welcome some undaunted heart
That wrestles songless through the nights and days.

1. “Merle Wood”
2. “Egoisme a Deux”
3. Steel or Gold?
4. The Most Beautiful Thing
5. Cloud-Climbing

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