The Dead poet---lord alfred douglas
I dreamed of him last night,I saw his face
All radiant and unshadowed of distress,
And as of old, in music measureless,
Heard his golden voice and marked him trace
Under the common thing the hidden grace, a
And conjure wonder out of emptiness,
And all the world was an enchanted place.
And then methought outside a locked gate
I mourned the loss of unrecord words,
Forgotten tales and mysteries half said,
wonders that might have been articulate,
And so I woke and knew that he was dead.
Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 6:24 PM UTC
The Dead poet---lord alfred douglas
I dreamed of him last night,I saw his face
All radiant and unshadowed of distress,
And as of old, in music measureless,
Heard his golden voice and marked him trace
Under the common thing the hidden grace, a
And conjure wonder out of emptiness,
And all the world was an enchanted place.
And then methought outside a locked gate
I mourned the loss of unrecord words,
Forgotten tales and mysteries half said,
wonders that might have been articulate,
And so I woke and knew that he was dead.
This poem i liked and thought i would share