posted on: Thursday November 12, 2015
by Jonathan Coppe ’18
A sort of love song I will write,
A kind that breaks not from a heart
Illumined with a glorious light
But from a heart oppressed with one
Sweet agony of love.
To see a life that’s come to harm,
All wounded by designs of hate,
Disguised like sirens out to charm,
Does pierce my bleeding heart with woe
While burning love unseen does heave
A groan from deep within my soul.
What eye has seen the blackest deep
Of seas the sun can conquer not?
What hands can shape the mountain peaks
Which hold up body-crushing snow?
What tiny man shall claim these feats
Which only GOD on high could show?
It is not man’s to carve the world
Or set dry land upon the sea.
Nor can we by pure wish all furled
Make every erring heart to bend
Away from self-inflicted pain
To give its sorrows time to mend.
They march along headstrong instead,
Beloved souls, down roads of death
Ignoring what lies soon ahead
And cause this agony I know
Of wishing those I love to thrive
While this wish is ever laid down low.
But lo!, what is in small man’s strength
Is still to persevere
Through every trial and at length
To love a dear friend to the core
Where love itself can mend a soul.
So agonies? Give me more.