Cambridge Poets 1900–1913

Victor B. Neuburg . O dream of the red olden time ! O clash of armour splendid ! A string of wind -begotten rime, And all their pain was ended ! O lonely sea ! O lonely earth ! O dying art of glorious mirth ! My song, my song is little worth To bring their bastard seed to birth ! What need of me in thunder - flash ? What need in battle story ? What need among the whitened ash Of old far - winnowed glory ? They call me not to birth - bed throes ; Invoke me not with gold and rose ; The summer wanes , the summer grows , They call me not from fire or snows . I linger by the cottage - door When twilight sings of sorrow ; I Ait around the gorse - strewn moor , And all the gold I borrow . But in mine eyes my doom is set , Yea ! in their golden - glooming fret Is woven the divine regret , And ah ! my birth - time is not yet . 150