Spirit
‘I died early, ’ said the Spirit,
‘So I didn’t have the chance to learn,
And though I don’t exactly burn
With envy for your thirty years,
It’s such a pity dying young,
The pleasures of a youth, unsung…
For all I left behind of me
Were memories of my mother’s pain
In birth and death,
Though such a breath of time it took,
It’s hard to judge that I had been,
That any could remain.
But for my father’s constant hurt,
His burden through a lonely life
Was such to crush the living breath
Right out of him, but could I see,
And crush the death right out of me.’
‘I hunger then, for knowledge
Of the seven wonders of the world
And nature’s secrets, all unfurled
As life unfolds before a man;
Of seas and skies, and mountains high,
The visions of an inner eye,
And colours I have ever longed for,
Colours I have never seen,
Though I have dreamed,
(Poor substitute it is for truth) :
I need the miracle of sight,
The senses in-between,
Which add your touch and taste and smell
To that of thought, which now I am,
A lonely thought communicating in itself
Its loneliness,
Your knowledge is an untold wealth.’
‘I envy you, ’ I then replied,
‘For ignorance of man’s affairs
Is rarely found,
And one who cares is better off
To never know.
But since you must insist to hear
The seven wonders are but fear
Of War, that selfish slaughter leaving
Millions dead and millions maimed,
And poverty, when countless numbers
Starve to death,
Diseases raging through a stricken land
To our undying shame
And apathy to suffering,
[...] Read more
poem by David Lewis Paget
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