Poems (Cromwell)/The Poet's Thrift
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THE POET'S THRIFT
My landscape only need comprise low hills,
For these are eminent and limitless
To me. They mean more than my dreams express;
They mean more than my word or deed fulfils.
Tim slender trees, the tuneless whip-poor-wills,
Impart quite ample themes to loneliness.
I find enough in scant elusiveness
Of springs and little brooks. My spirit thrills
To beauty, unprepared for the sublime.
I wonder, though, when I shah be completed
Even to transcribe these hills? Sometime
This landscape in few lines will show to me
The subtle mysteries I have entreated,
In the simple realm of poetry.
For these are eminent and limitless
To me. They mean more than my dreams express;
They mean more than my word or deed fulfils.
Tim slender trees, the tuneless whip-poor-wills,
Impart quite ample themes to loneliness.
I find enough in scant elusiveness
Of springs and little brooks. My spirit thrills
To beauty, unprepared for the sublime.
I wonder, though, when I shah be completed
Even to transcribe these hills? Sometime
This landscape in few lines will show to me
The subtle mysteries I have entreated,
In the simple realm of poetry.