THWARTED UTTERANCE

Why should my clumsy speech so fall astray,

To uncouth jargon of the every-day

Turn each fit word and phrase

I treasured for your praise?

Discoveries I won to from afar,

All the rare things you are — nor know you are,—

In Orient offering

I haste to you to bring.

I think to kneel and spread on cloths of dream

The beautiful, the priceless things you seem;

Perfume and precious stone,

That you be shown your own.

Prince of my vision-palace, I would call

Your name through trumpets down its central hall,

And the rapt choral praise

Before your dais raise;

And you should see, should hear, be glad and smile

That I so love you. Ah, but all the while

I may not show nor teach

Save through my paupered speech!

Beggar in guise, who am so rich at heart

Where you have set your pure white shrine apart

And keep your cherished state

Dear and immaculate,

How should you know or hear me, when my tongue

Turns a dull rebel and doth ready wrong

To thoughts my dreams repeat?—

Perhaps too proud, too sweet!