THE DEAD POET
by: Alfred Douglas (1870-1945)
POEMS BY ALFRED DOUGLAS
- 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.