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|A Poet’s Fancies|
A Song of Derivations
I come from nothing; but from where|
Come the undying thoughts I bear?
Down, through long links of death and birth,
From the past poets of the earth,
My immortality is there.
I am like the blossom of an hour.|
But long, long vanished sun and shower
A woke my breath i’ the young world’s air;
I track the past back everywhere
Through seed and flower and seed and flower.
Or I am like a stream that flows|
Full of the cold springs that arose
In morning lands, in distant hills;
And down the plain my channel fills
With melting of forgotten snows.
Voices, I have not heard, possessed|
My own fresh songs; my thoughts are blessed
With relics of the far unknown.
And mixed with memories not my own
The sweet streams throng into my breast.
Before this life began to be,|
The happy songs that wake in me
Woke long ago and far apart.
Heavily on this little heart
Presses this immortality.
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Lane Core Jr. (email@example.com)
Created April 13, 2001; not revised.