Poem: The Poet by Arthur A. D. Bayldon

The poet sows his goodly seed
   Along the tracts of wrong;
And clasps around each kingly deed
   The trappings of his song.
Fresh tidings of old truths he spreads
   From jaded clime to clime.
The ceaseless spinning of the threads
   That weave the wool of Time
Is heard on that colossal height
   On which he sits alone,
Unfolded by the blinding light
   That streams from the Unknown.

First published in The Queenslander, 12 September 1896

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This page contains a single entry by Perry Middlemiss published on June 5, 2010 8:39 AM.

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