Frederick George Scott Poems

WHAT power can break the inner harmonies,
The rich imaginings, heard like distant sea
O'er purple meadow-lands at eve, while we
Look starwards mute? Hopes that like mountains rise
...

HER love was that full love which, like a tide,
Flows in and out life's smallest gulfs and bays,
And fills with music through long summer days
Cold hearts that else would stern and dark abide.
...

I SAW Truth on the mountains, golden-shod
With day-dawn, girt about with skies
Of azure mist, half veiling from man's eyes
Her silent face and gaze upturned to God.
...

UNSEEN in the great minister dome of time,
Whose shafts are centuries, its spangled roof
The vaulted universe, our master sits,
And organ-voices like a far-off chime
...

I STOOD in that strange show, the other day,
On Baker Street, where all the famous men,
Fair dames, and murderers come to life again,
With clockwork breast and face of mimic clay,
...

IN the land that is neither night nor day,
Where the mists sleep over the forests grey,
A sad, sad spirit wandered away.
The woods are still—no brooks, no wind
...

'TWAS afternoon in winter, and the light
Sloped softly up the walls, as day was done,
In tremulous cloud-beams, while the westering sun
Blazoned with saints the columns opposite.
...

WE stand above the abyss; beneath our feet
Around and onward infinite darkness rolls.
The sky above is black; the watch-bell tolls
The dying year. While slow in silent feet
...

I HID in the world and sang,
And I sang so loud and long
That all the ages rang
With the music of my song.
...

DO you remember how, one autumn night,
We sat upon the rocks and watched the sea
In dreamlike silence, while the moonlight fell
On you and me?
...