Posted by: W. E. Poplaski | November 15, 2008

POEM OF THE DAY: The Instinct of Hope

by John Clare (1793 – 1864).

 

The Instinct of Hope

 

Is there another world for this frail dust

To warm with life and be itself again?

Something about me daily speaks there must,

And why should instinct nourish hopes in vain?

‘Tis nature’s prophesy that such will be,                             5

And everything seems struggling to explain

The close sealed volume of its mystery.

Time wandering onward keeps its usual pace

As seeming anxious of eternity,

To meet that calm and find a resting place.                     10

E’en the small violet feels a future power

And waits each year renewing blooms to bring,

And surely man is no inferior flower

To die unworthy of a second spring?

 

Notes:

http://www.johnclare.info/

http://www.victorianweb.org/authors/clare/index.html


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