Muriel Stuart

(1889-1967 / England)

For Fasting Days


Are you my songs, importunate of praise?
Be still, remember for your comforting
That sweeter birds have had less leave to sing
Before men piped them from their lonely ways.

Greener leaves than yours are lost in every spring
Rubies far redder thrust your eager rays
Into the blindfold dark for many days
Before men chose them for a finger-ring.

Sing as you dare, not as men choose, receive not
The passing fashion's prize, for dole or due-
Men's summer-sweet unrecognition-grieve not:
Oh, stoop not to them! Better far that you
Should go unsung than sing as you believe not,
Should go uncrowned than to yourselves untrue.

Submitted: Monday, April 12, 2010

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (For Fasting Days by Muriel Stuart )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. Reproductions Through Music, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
  2. Safest place, gajanan mishra
  3. To whom I am going, gajanan mishra
  4. In The Process Of Existence, Naveed Akram
  5. Thy presence, binod bastola
  6. My Maiden's Love Is Like A Cloud In June, Chibueze Oscar Osuji
  7. दिल को हरदम dil ko hardam, hasmukh amathalal
  8. Ode To Envy, Chibueze Oscar Osuji
  9. Time be quite, Filippo Stella
  10. Domestic goddess, Mark Heathcote

Poem of the Day

poet Emily Dickinson

239

"Heaven"—is what I cannot reach!
The Apple on the Tree—
Provided it do hopeless—hang—
That—"Heaven" is—to Me!

...... Read complete »

 

Modern Poem

poet John Burroughs

 

Member Poem

[Hata Bildir]