Madden Joseph

Madden Joseph

Could we new charms to age impart?
And fashion with a cunning art
the human face.
As you clothe the soul with light,
And make the glorious spirits bright,
with thy heavenly grace,
From mother’s womb
Lay curled in rest
you awaken in that hour
like the bloom on the flower,
exposing its luminous crest.

Dawn

when to my darkened room the flushing East
comes with her comrade sharply-clawed, the Dream,
she wakens me by a bright avenging scheme,
an angel in plume, not the besotted beast.
deep vaults of inaccessible azure there,
before the dreamer sick with many a spasm,
open, abysmal as a beckoning chasm.
thus, deity, all pure clear light and air,
over the fog’s reeking track
— brighter and lovelier yet, thane image flies
in fluttering rays before my widening eyes.
the sun has turned the candles' flame to black;
even so, victorious always, thou art one
— resplendent spirit! — with the eternal sun!