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1836–1920

BYRON AND THE ANGEL

Hanford Lennox Gordon

“Why this fever — why this sighing?— Why this restless longing — dying For — a something — dreamy something, Undefined, and yet defying

All the pride and power of manhood? “O these years of sin and sorrow! Smiling while the iron harrow Of a keen and biting longing

Tears and quivers in the marrow Of my being every moment — Of my very inmost being. “What to me the mad ambition

For men's praise and proud position — Struggling, fighting to the summit Of its vain and earthly mission, To lie down on bed of ashes —

Bed of barren, bitter ashes? “Cure this fever? I have tried it; Smothered, drenched it and defied it With a will of brass and iron;

Every smile and look denied it; Yet it heeded not denying, And it mocks at my defying While my very soul is dying.

“Is there balm in Gilead?— tell me! Nay — no balm to soothe and quell me? Must I tremble in this fever? Death, O lift thy hand and fell me;

Let me sink to rest forever Where this burning cometh never. “Sometimes when this restless madness Softens down to mellow sadness,

I look back on sun-lit valleys Where my boyish heart of gladness Nestled without pain or longing — Nestled softly in a vision

Full of love and hope's fruition, Lulled by morning songs of spring-time. “Then I ponder, and I wonder Was some heart-chord snapped asunder

When the threads were soft and silken? Did some fatal boyish blunder Plant a canker in my bosom That hath ever burned and rankled?

“O this thirsting, thirsting hanker! O this burning, burning canker’ Driving Peace and Hope to shipwreck — Without rudder, without anchor,

On the reef-rocks of Damnation!” “Jesus — Son of Virgin Mary; Lift the burden from the weary: Pity, Jesus, and anoint him

With the holy balm of Gilead.” “Yea, Christ Jesus, pour thy blessings On these terrible heart-pressings: O I bless thee, unseen Angel;

Lead me — teach me, holy Spirit.” “There is balm in Gilead! There is balm in Gilead! Peace awaits thee with caressings —

Sitting at the feet of Jesus — At the right-hand of Jehovah — At the blessed feet of Jesus;— Alleluia!”

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BYRON AND THE ANGEL · Hanford Lennox Gordon · Poetry Cove