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Poem by Thomas MacDonagh

Of the Man of My First Play

As one who stands in awe when on his sight
A fragment of antiquity doth burst
And body huge above the plain which erst
Knew its high fame and all its olden might,
So in a dream of vanquished power and right
I gazed on him, a fragment from the first,
A ruin vast, half builded here and curst,--
Perhaps full moulded in the eternal night.

How may I show him? -- How his story plan
Who was prefigured to the dreaming eye
In term of other being? -- May he fill
This mask of life? -- Or will my creature cry
Shame that I dwarf the sequel and the man
To house him thus within a fragment still?

Thomas MacDonagh

Thomas MacDonagh's other poems:
  1. The Song of Joy
  2. The Seasons and the Leaves
  3. In Calm
  4. The Poet Saint
  5. Averil

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