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Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
1823-1896

My childhood was a vision heavenly wrought;
High joys of which I sometimes dream, yet fail
To recollect sufficient to bewail,
And now for ever seek, came then unsought:
But thoughts denying feeling, every thought
Some buried feeling's ghost, a spirit pale,
Sprang up, and wordy nothings could prevail
And juggle with my soul; since, better tought,
The Christian's apprehension, light that solves
Doubt without logic, rose faith that hope involves
And joys, like stars, which, though they not illume
This mortal night, have glory that dissolves
And strikes to quick transparence all its gloom

Compensation

That nothing here may wants its praise
Know, she who in her dress reveals
A fine and modest taste, displays
More loveliness than she conceals.

© 2000 Elena and Yacov Feldman