Canticle

Another sad poem

I am yet what I am none cares or knows;

My friends forsake me as a memory lost:

I am the self-consumer of my woes

They rise and vanish in oblivious host,

Like shadows in love’s frenzied stifled throes

And yet I am, and live like vapors tossed

Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,

Into the living sea of waking dreams,

Where there is neither sense of life or joys,

But the vast shipwreck of my life’s esteems;

Even the dearest that I loved the best

Are strange nay, rather, stranger than the rest.

I long for scenes where man hath never trod

A place where woman never smiled or wept

There to abide with my Creator, God,

And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept,

Untroubling and untroubled where I lie

The grass below above the vaulted sky.

 

Comments3

  • Nicholas Browning

    Well, I can definitely see the reflection of what the narrator thinks of themselves. That much is clear. If such a place existed it would be off limits to the presence of man. Oh well, I'm sure a place like that exists. I enjoyed the read, and best regards. May the next poem be one of triumph and joy.

    • Canticle

      That's the hope

    • orchidee

      An expressive poem. Yes indeed! May next poem be cheery, and canticle-like.

      • Canticle

        Thank you for your hope

      • daisychain

        I like it; I think it's very beautiful.

        • Canticle

          Thank You!



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