TO COVENTRY PATMORE
Lo, my book thinks to look Time’s leaguer down,
Under the banner of your spread renown!
Or if these levies of impuissant rhyme
Fall to the overthrow of assaulting Time,
Yet this one page shall fend oblivious shame,
Armed with your crested and prevailing Name.
Note.—This dedication was written while the dear friend and great Poet to whom it was addressed yet lived. It is left as he saw it—the last verses of mine that were ever to pass under his eyes.
F. T.
SIGHT AND INSIGHT
‘Wisdom is easily seen by them that love her, and is found by them that seek her.
To think therefore upon her is perfect understanding.’
Wisdom, vi.
THE MISTRESS OF VISION.
I
Secret was the garden;
Set i’ the pathless awe
Where no star its breath can draw.
Life, that is its warden,
Sits behind the fosse of death. Mine eyes saw not, and I saw.