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Heroic Good target for which the young Dream

Heroic Good target for which the young
Dream in their dreams that every bow is strung
And missing sigh
Unfruitful or as disbelievers die
Thee having miss'd I will not so revolt
But lowlier shoot my bolt
And lowlier still if still I may not reach
And my proud stomach teach
That less than highest is good and may be high.
And even walk in life's uneven way
Though to have dreamt of flight and not to fly
Be strange and sad
Is not a boon that's given to all who pray.
If this I had
I'd envy none!
Nay trod I straight for one
Year month or week
Should Heaven withdraw and Satan me amerce
Of power and joy still would I seek
Another victory with a like reverse;
Because the good of victory does not die
As dies the failure's curse
And what we have to gain
Is not one battle but a weary life's campaign.
Yet meaner lot being sent
Should more than me content;
Yea if I lie
Among vile shards though born for silver wings
In the strong flight and feathers gold
Of whatsoever heavenward mounts and sings
I must by admiration so comply
That there I should my own delight behold.
Yea though I sin each day times seven
And dare not lift the fearfullest eyes to Heaven
Thanks must I give
Because that seven times are not eight or nine
And that my darkness is all mine
And that I live
Within this oak shade one more minute even
Hearing the winds their Maker magnify..

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by:- admin posted in:- coventry patmore

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