William Gay

Primroses

They shine upon my table there,
 A constellation mimic sweet,
No stars in Heaven could shine more fair,
 Nor Earth has beauty more complete;
And on my table there they shine,
And speak to me of things Divine.

In Heaven at first they grew, and when
 God could no fairer make them, He
Did plant them by the ways of men
 For all the pure in heart to see,
That each might shine upon its stem
And be a light from Him to them.

They speak of things above my verse,
 Of thoughts no earthly language knows,
That loftiest Bard could ne'er rehearse,
 Nor holiest prophet e'er disclose,
Which God Himself no other way
Than by a Primrose could convey.

To M.

(With some Verses)

If in the summer of thy bright regard
 For one brief season these poor Rhymes shall live
I ask no more, nor think my fate too hard
 If other eyes but wintry looks should give;
Nor will I grieve though what I here have writ
 O'erburdened Time should drop among the ways,
And to the unremembering dust commit
 Beyond the praise and blame of other days:
The song doth pass, but I who sing, remain,
 I pluck from Death's own heart a life more deep,
And as the Spring, that dies not, in her train
 Doth scatter blossoms for the winds to reap,
So I, immortal, as I fare along,
Will strew my path with mortal flowers of song.

Vestigia Nulla Retrorsum

O steep and rugged Life, whose harsh ascent
 Slopes blindly upward through the bitter night!
 They say that on thy summit, high in light,
Sweet rest awaits the climber, travel-spent;
But I, alas, with dusty garments rent,
 With fainting heart and failing limbs and sight,
 Can see no glimmer of the shining height,
And vainly list, with body forward bent,
To catch athwart the gloom one wandering note
 Of those glad anthems which (they say) are sung
  When one emerges from the mists below:
But though, O Life, thy summit be remote
 And all thy stony path with darkness hung,
  Yet ever upward through the night I go.