On days when I am in a daze, In sullen mood I sit and think And gaze upon the paper and the ink Or stare beguiled and wonder if I filed the nib enough and is it stiff? Or should I pour another drink? I gather rose-buds while I may On days when I am in a daze, And wonder when I’ll reach a phase Of cool uncertainty, in such a way As I won’t be concerned, and happily Rest upon the lessons learned? In night time splendour I withdraw, I turn the key and lock the door, On days when I am in a daze. In sublime moods and inspirations I retire, Examining the virtue of each metered rhyme And quietly being so amused, I gaze.... But that’s the worth of poetry! Selecting and the patterning of words In some sequential symmetry; On days when I am in a daze I gather rose-buds while I may And smell them in a silent way. For who can say with cool conviction What a poet or a poems’ worth? And if the metre or encryption Is more than just a million miles away? On days when I am in a daze My muse portrays a sullen gaze... So I am ill-disposed to while or stray Or softly still your aching ears With all this mellow, mystic poesy And drown you with my poet’s tears, Or share my lover’s pains in sad essay; On days when I am in a daze, I’m in some kind of ecstasy....
All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.
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