Sydney Thompson Dobell Poems

Oh Soul! that this fair flower dost so mirrour,
Ask of thyself, saying-'Soul beautiful,
Oh Soul-in-love, oh happy, happy Soul,
...

I saw the human millions as the sand
Unruffled on the starlit wilderness.
The day was near, and every star grew less
...

At last the curse has run its date!
The heavens grow clear above,
And on the purple plains of Hate,
We'll build the throne of Love!
...

O ye who by the gaping earth
Where, faint with resurrection, lay
An empire struggling into birth,
Her storm-strown beauty cold with clay,
...

As when at twelve o'clock
Strong January opes the gates of Life
And we that were so cabined and so dark
...

Since Sovereign Nature, at the happy best,
Is rightful and sole paragon of Art,
...

As one doth touch a flower wherein the dew
Trembles to fall, as one unplaits the ply
Of morning gossamer, so tenderly
...

The murmur of the mourning ghost
That keeps the shadowy kine,
'O Keith of Ravelston,
The sorrows of thy line!'
...

My Love, my Lord,
I think the toil of glorious day is done.
I see thee leaning on thy jewelled sword,
And a light-hearted child of France
...

I do not say the day is long and weary,
For while thou art content to be away,
Living in thee, oh Love, I live thy day,
...