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  • They Ask Me For Verses

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    Mitchelle Siongco
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    The poet expresses that he is unable to compose verses as requested. He feels cold and isolated in his soul, no longer able to feel or sing. He reminisces about a time in the past when the muse smiled upon him and he had friendship. However, that time has long passed. As a plant torn from its native Eastern bed, the poet left behind the land where he was taught songs by thrilling birds and the sounds of nature. In his youth he dreamed of spreading his poetic flame around the world, but those dreams are now dead, like a broken and barren tree. Having crossed wide seas to a foreign shore in search of change, the poet now realizes his folly too late, as the seas revealed

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    They Ask Me for Verses

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    The poet expresses that he is unable to compose verses as requested. He feels cold and isolated in his soul, no longer able to feel or sing. He reminisces about a time in the past when the muse smiled upon him and he had friendship. However, that time has long passed. As a plant torn from its native Eastern bed, the poet left behind the land where he was taught songs by thrilling birds and the sounds of nature. In his youth he dreamed of spreading his poetic flame around the world, but those dreams are now dead, like a broken and barren tree. Having crossed wide seas to a foreign shore in search of change, the poet now realizes his folly too late, as the seas revealed

    Copyright:

    Attribution Non-Commercial (BY-NC)
    Download as DOCX, PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
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    Download as docx, pdf, or txt
    475 views2 pages

    They Ask Me For Verses

    Uploaded by

    Mitchelle Siongco
    The poet expresses that he is unable to compose verses as requested. He feels cold and isolated in his soul, no longer able to feel or sing. He reminisces about a time in the past when the muse smiled upon him and he had friendship. However, that time has long passed. As a plant torn from its native Eastern bed, the poet left behind the land where he was taught songs by thrilling birds and the sounds of nature. In his youth he dreamed of spreading his poetic flame around the world, but those dreams are now dead, like a broken and barren tree. Having crossed wide seas to a foreign shore in search of change, the poet now realizes his folly too late, as the seas revealed

    Copyright:

    Attribution Non-Commercial (BY-NC)
    Download as DOCX, PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
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    Download as docx, pdf, or txt
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    Siongco, Dawn Mitchelle R. 2INP01 HIS 102 Mam Froilie D. Somera THEY ASK ME FOR VERSES by Dr.

    Jose Rizal You bid me now to strike the lyre That mute and torn so long has lain: And yet I cannot wake the strain, Nor will the Muse one note inspire! Coldly it shakes in accents dire, As if my soul itself to wring, And when its sound seems but to fling A jest at its own low lament; So in sad isolation pent, My soul can neither feel nor sing There was a time ah, tis too true But that time long ago has past When upon me the muse had cast Indulgent smile and friendships due But of that age now all too few The thoughts that with me yet will stay; As from the hours of festive play There linger on mysterious notes, And in our minds the memory floats Of minstrelsy and music gay. A plant I am, that scarcely grown, Was torn from out its Eastern bed, Where all around perfume is shed And life but as a dream is known; The land that I can call my own By me forgotten neer to be, Where thrilling birds their song taught me, And cascades with their ceaseless roar, And all along the spreading shore The murmurs of the sounding sea. While yet in childhoods happy day, I learn upon its sun to smile,

    And in my breast there seems the while Seething volcanic fires to play, A bard I was, my wish always To call upon the fleeting wind, Go forth, and spread around its flame, From zone to zone with glad acclaim, And earth to heaven together bind! But it left, and now no more Like a tree that is broken and sere My natal gods bring the echo clear Of songs that in past times they bore; Wide seas I crossd to foreign shore, With hope of change and other fate, My folly was made clear too late, For in the place of good I sought The seas reveald unto naught, But made deaths spectre on me wait, All these food fancies that were mine, All love, all feeling, all emprise, Were left beneath the sunny skies; Which oer that flowery region shine; So press no more that plea of thine. For songs of love from out a heart That coldly lies a thing apart; Since now with torturd soul I haste Unresting oer the desert waste, And lifeless gone is all the art.

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