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The Dead Poet
(1870 - 1945 / England)

The Dead Poet

Poem By Lord Alfred Douglas

I dreamed of him last night, I saw his face
All radiant and unshadowed of distress,
And as of old, in music measureless,
I heard his golden voice and marked him trace
Under the common thing the hidden grace,
And conjure wonder out of emptiness,
Till mean things put on beauty like a dress
And all the world was an enchanted place.

And then methought outside a fast locked gate
I mourned the loss of unrecorded words,
Forgotten tales and mysteries half said,
Wonders that might have been articulate,
And voiceless thoughts like murdered singing birds.
And so I woke and knew that he was dead.

User Rating: 4,6 / 5 ( 9 votes ) 5

Other poems of DOUGLAS (29)

Comments (5)

Moving poignancy, of belatedly well thought of and most probably missed personality.
This is a sincere tribute to a sensitive poet who creates the world of expression, music, beauty and grace. Thanks for sharing.
Heartfelt poem, nicely written...10
I like it. I wonder who he wrote it for? Wilde.. nah...
This almost made me cry..... Why don't more people know about his poetry?


Comments