The Conservative (Lovecraft)/July 1919/Disappointment
For works with similar titles, see Disappointment.
Disappointment
By Wilfrid Kemble
Their lustrous eyes still glow in wood and mead,
The flow’rs that drew my infant steps astray
From home, while yet, with purpose bent on play,
To grander sights above I gave no heed,
But when at length I felt a larger need,
As grew the heat and burden of the day,
I sought relief in visions far away,
Whose glories would the spangled earth’s exceed.
Alas! I hear the battle’s deadly roar,
And mark the glare of burning shrine and street,
Whose smoke ascends to Heaven’s fast-clos’d door;
And sick at heart with surfeit of deceit,
I fain would be a little child once more,
Content with daisies flow’ring at my feet.
