Swags Up!


J. Le Gay Brereton

SPRING, and the wispy clouds that fade away
    And draw the ecstatic soul in pain to aspire
    In maddening flight through heaven’s thin flood of fire
To melt in rapture at the heart of day,
The powers of the world that promise and betray
    Have dragged me from you in their icy ire
    And set me spinning at their loom, for hire,
The shroud in which my senses must decay.

For hire I give myself, and cannot tell
    If the blind force that flings me in the chest
        Have power or will to pay the bargained price,
Yet for a word of love I gladly quell
    The quivering hope of not inactive rest
        And very humbly make my sacrifice.

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