Sagas of Vaster Britain: Poems of the Race, the Empire and the Divinity of Man

by William Wilfred Campbell




I AM a sad æolian lyre
   On which the wind of destiny sings
Earth’s discords, or her glad desire,
   Until some dread hand breaks my strings:—

Until some dread hand makes me mute,

   And earth’s great organ tones, her roar
   Of autumn on his wintry shore,
Old Ocean’s voice
Bidding his mighty hosts rejoice;
   Spring’s melodies that thrill and soar,
Her viol, oboe, lute, and flute
   Reverberate round my heart no more.