Page:A channel passage and other poems (IA channelpassageot00swinrich).pdf/111

 They deem thee or dream thee Less living now than dead, Deep sunken and drunken With sleep whence fear has fled.

And what though thy song as thine action Wax faint, and thy place be not known, While faction is grappling with faction, Twin curs with thy corpse for a bone? They care not, who spare not The noise of pens or throats; Who bluster and muster Blind ranks and bellowing votes.

Let populace jangle with peerage And ministers shuffle their mobs; Mad pilots who reck not of steerage Though tempest ahead of them throbs.