Selected Poems

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Kapat

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  Sweet, I blame you not, for mine the fault
  was, had I not been made of common clay
  I had climbed the higher heights unclimbed
  yet, seen the fuller air, the larger day.
  
  From the wildness of my wasted passion I had
  struck a better, clearer song,
  Lit some lighter light of freer freedom, battled
  with some Hydra-headed wrong.
  
  Had my lips been smitten into music by the
  kisses that but made them bleed,
  You had walked with Bice and the angels on
  that verdant and enamelled mead.
  
  I had trod the road which Dante treading saw
  the suns of seven circles shine,
  Ay! perchance had seen the heavens opening,
  as they opened to the Florentine.
  
  And the mighty nations would have crowned
  me, who am crownless now and without name,
  And some orient dawn had found me kneeling
  on the threshold of the House of Fame.