To One in Bedlam
Ernest Dowson
1867 to 1900
Track 1
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His strait, caged universe, whereat the dull world stares.
Thy moon-kissed roses seem: better than love or sleep,
Those scentless wisps of straw that, miserable, line
And make his melancholy germane to the stars'?
O lamentable brother! if those pity thee,
The star-crowned solitude of thine oblivious hours!
Pedant and pitiful. O, how his rapt gaze wars
With delicate, mad hands, behind his sordid bars,
Am I not fain of all thy lone eyes promise me;
Half a fool's kingdom, far from men who sow and reap,
With their stupidity! Know they what dreams divine
All their days, vanity? Better than mortal flowers,
Lift his long, laughing reveries like enchanted wine,
Surely he hath his posies, which they tear and twine;