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Poem by Richard Doddridge Blackmore

To Fame


Right Fairy of the morn, with flowers arrayed,
Whose beauties to thy young pursuer seem
Beyond the ecstasy of poet's dream
Shall I overtake thee, ere thy lustre fade?


Ripe glory of the noon, august, and proud,
A vision of high purpose, power, and skill,
That melteth into mirage of good-will
Do I o'ertake thee, or embrace a cloud?


Gray shadow of the evening, gaunt and bare,
At random cast, beyond me or above,
And cold as memory in the arms of love
If I o'ertook thee now, what should I care?


'No morn, or noon, or eve am I,' she said;
'But nightthe depth of night behind the sun;
By all mankind pursued; but never won,
Until my shadow falls upon a shade.'

Richard Doddridge Blackmore

Richard Doddridge Blackmore's other poems:
  1. Dominus Illuminatio Mea
  2. The Well of Saint John
  3. Kadisha; Or, The First Jealousy
  4. To My Pen
  5. Mount Arafa

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