Poems (Cook)/Stanzas (Though like the marble rock of old)

by Eliza Cook

For works with similar titles, see Stanzas.

STANZAS.

though like the marble rock of old,This heart may seem all hard and cold,Yet, like that rock, a touch will bringThe water from the secret spring:Let Memory breathe her softest tone,With magic force it breaks the stone;And forth will gush, all fresh and bright,The living tide of love and light,            That pours in vain.

Though like the cloud of gather'd storm,This brow may be of dull, dark form;Yet, like that cloud, the brow may bearThe spirit lightning hidden there.The pensive mood, with charmless frown,May weigh my heavy eyelids down;The gloom is deep, but it is fraughtWith flashings of electric thought,            That burst in pain.

The eastern flower of desert birthIs prized not while it decks the earth;But, snatch'd and gather'd, crush'd and dead,Is valued for its odour shed.And so this lyre, whose native soundScarce wins the ear of those around,May wear a richer wreath of bay,When still in death the hand shall lay            That wakes its strain.