Selected Poems

by Frederick George Scott




Azriman, the mystic sage,
Said, “Man’s soul is in a cage,
Only peeping through the bars
At the mountain-tops and stars.

What true singing can I sing
With a chained and crippled wing?
If I could but soar away,
Past the bounds of earth and day,

Bathe in fountains of the light,
Plumb the deepest gulfs of night,
Burrow neath the teeming grass,
Hear the feet of shadows pass,

Toss with wind and waves at strife,
Stroke the baby curls of life,
Count the pulse-beats, neath the sod,
Of the poisoned heart of God,

Then in every hill and stream
I should find a wondrous theme,
And could weave into a strain
Thoughts to heal man's ageless pain". [Page 88]