Collegia – Ode 7: The Spring


AS one journeying in a torrid land
Beneath th’impassioned sun, no tree
To shelter life, or canopy,
His tongue swoll’n, caked with desert sand
His mouth, and raw his lips and teeth;
His forehead burning, and his soul on fire
And scorching to an ember, sees
A blissful place in the cool shade of trees,
And there finds water for his lips, his brow,
And wallows in the welcome mire;
So at the end of day,
With eve’s devotions o’er,
When there is leisure for a short pow-wow,
I creep away, far, far away
From Science and lifeless signs
To delve into the richest mines
Of books, and over Tennyson I pore.

6. 11. 1927