Poems (Cromwell)/Independence
For works with similar titles, see Independence.
INDEPENDENCE
I lie in wait that I may steal a view
Of truth as lovely as the spires of latch
Rising in limpid skies. But wandering March
Eludes me though I watch the swift year through
July to June: all visions dawn from you.
Though I look steadily across the arch
Of my own youth; though many splendors parch
My blood, your wisdom, Sweet, alone I listen to.
Yet I would win a beauty all my. own,
Too fine for derivation or confiding,—
Surprise a truth your love has never shown
My servile glance; my themes, by living them,
Shall grow like laden branches from a stem,
And I ,shall break them off at their dividing.
Of truth as lovely as the spires of latch
Rising in limpid skies. But wandering March
Eludes me though I watch the swift year through
July to June: all visions dawn from you.
Though I look steadily across the arch
Of my own youth; though many splendors parch
My blood, your wisdom, Sweet, alone I listen to.
Yet I would win a beauty all my. own,
Too fine for derivation or confiding,—
Surprise a truth your love has never shown
My servile glance; my themes, by living them,
Shall grow like laden branches from a stem,
And I ,shall break them off at their dividing.