Clive Staples Lewis
Clive Staples Lewis Poems
|2.||Milton Read Again (In Surrey)||3/21/2012|
|4.||Tu Ne Quaesieris||3/21/2012|
|5.||Le Roi S’amuse||3/21/2012|
|8.||Ode For New Year's Day||3/21/2012|
|11.||The Autumn Morning||3/21/2012|
|16.||Here The Whole World||3/21/2012|
|18.||Song Of The Pilgrims||3/21/2012|
|19.||How He Saw Angus, The God||3/21/2012|
|20.||The Ocean Strand||3/21/2012|
|22.||Our Daily Bread||3/21/2012|
|26.||Hymn (For Boys' Voices)||3/21/2012|
|27.||In Praise Of Solid People||3/21/2012|
|34.||The Future Of Forestry||3/21/2012|
|37.||Death In Battle||3/21/2012|
|38.||French Nocturne (Monchy-Le-Preux)||3/21/2012|
|39.||On A Vulgar Error||1/1/2004|
|40.||Prelude To Space||1/1/2004|
As The Ruin Falls
All this is flashy rhetoric about loving you.
I never had a selfless thought since I was born.
I am mercenary and self-seeking through and through:
I want God, you, all friends, merely to serve my turn.
Peace, re-assurance, pleasure, are the goals I seek,
I cannot crawl one inch outside my proper skin:
I talk of love --a scholar's parrot may talk Greek--
But, self-imprisoned, always end where I begin.
Only that now you have taught me (but how late) my lack.
I see the chasm. And everything you are was making
My heart into a bridge by which I might get ...
The Country Of The Blind
Hard light bathed them-a whole nation of eyeless men,
Dark bipeds not aware how they were maimed. A long
Process, clearly, a slow curse,
Drained through centuries, left them thus.
At some transitional stage, then, a luckless few,
No doubt, must have had eyes after the up-to-date,
Normal type had achieved snug
Darkness, safe from the guns of heavn;