Classic and Contemporary Poetry
TO A LOG OF WOOD UPON THE FIRE, by HORACE SMITH Poet's Biography First Line: When horace, as the snows descended Last Line: To realms celestial. Alternate Author Name(s): Smith, Horatio Subject(s): Death; Earth; Fire; Life; Wood; Dead, The; World | ||||||||
WHEN Horace, as the snows descended On Mount Soracte, recommended That logs be doubled, Until a blazing fire arose, I wonder whether thoughts like those Which in my noddle interpose, His fancy troubled. Poor Log! I cannot hear thee sigh, And groan, and hiss, and see thee die, To warm a Poet, Without evincing thy success, And as thou wanest less and less, Inditing a farewell address To let thee know it. Peeping from earth -- a bud unveiled, Some "bosky bourne" or dingle hailed Thy natal hour; While infant winds around thee blew, And thou wert fed with silver dew, And tender sunbeams oozing through Thy leafy bower. Earth -- water -- air -- thy growth prepared; And if perchance some robin, scared From neighbouring manor, Perched on thy crest, it rocked in air, Making his ruddy feathers flare In the sun's ray, as if they were A fairy banner. Or if some nightingale impressed Against thy branching top her breast Heaving with passion, And in the leafy nights of June, Outpoured her sorrows to the moon, Thy trembling stem thou didst attune To each vibration. Thou grew'st a goodly tree, with shoots Fanning the sky, and earth-bound roots So grappled under, That thou whom perching birds could swing, And zephyrs rock with lightest wing, From thy firm trunk unmoved didst fling Tempest and thunder. Thine offspring leaves -- death's annual prey, Which Herod Winter tore away From thy caressing, In heaps, like graves, around thee blown, Each morn thy dewy tears have strown, O'er each thy branching hands been thrown, As if in blessing. Bursting to life, another race At touch of Spring in thy embrace, Sported and fluttered; Aloft, where wanton breezes played, In thy knit boughs have ringdoves made Their nest, and lovers in thy shade Their vows have uttered. How oft thy lofty summits won Morn's virgin smile, and hailed the sun With rustling motion; How oft in silent depths of night, When the moon sailed in cloudless light, Thou hast stood awe-struck at the sight In hushed devotion -- 'Twere vain to ask; for doomed to fall, The day appointed for us all O'er thee impended; The hatchet, with remorseless blow, First laid thee in the forest low, Then cut thee into logs -- and so Thy course was ended. But not thine use -- for moral rules, Worth all the wisdom of the schools, Thou may'st bequeath me; Bidding me cherish those who live Above me, and the more I thrive, A wider shade and shelter give To those beneath me. So when death lays his axe on me, I may resign, as calm as thee, My hold terrestrial; Like thine my latter end be found, Diffusing light and warmth around, And like thy smoke my spirit bound To realms celestial. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BROKEN BALANCE by ROBINSON JEFFERS SUBJECTED EARTH by ROBINSON JEFFERS GEOMETAPHYSICS by MARGARET AVISON NIAGARA by JOHN FREDERICK NIMS SOPHISTICATION by CONRAD AIKEN I SEE CHILE IN MY REARVIEW MIRROR by AGHA SHAHID ALI WASHING OUR HANDS OF THE REST OF AMERICA by MARVIN BELL THE EARTH IS A LIVING THING by LUCILLE CLIFTON ADDRESS TO THE MUMMY AT BELZONI'S EXHIBITION by HORACE SMITH |
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