Poems (Cromwell)/To My Poet
TO MY POET
Dear Poet of the swift imperial ways, The overtones of thy melodious showers Are mine, and shadows of thy leaning flowers; My thoughts are emulous of thy thought sprays. Thou art the shepherd of my humble days The faint subsiding impulse of thy powersReverberates and stirs my silent hours; My partial words are thy remembered lays.
When Jesus gave the loaves to the meek throng, They fared, and there were basketsful besides—The fragments fallen from his grace benign, Abundant- since, dear Poet, love divides, A portion of thy opulence is mine, I gather from thy plenitude of song.