Owen Suffolk - Untitled 7

Fame surrounds us with a glory, <br />Dazzling as the noon-day sun, <br />And upon the page of story, <br />Blazons deeds of greatness done. <br />But 'tis love that sheds a brightness <br />Round us that can ne'er depart, <br />And with its own gentle lightness, <br />Writes its records on the heart. <br /> <br />Fame may stir the soul within us, <br />Half with pleasure, half with pain; <br />And a world's applause may win us <br />With its many-echoed strain. <br />But the song of love's own singing, <br />Though 'tis breathed by one alone, <br />Ever to the heart is bringing, <br />New-born raptures in its tone. <br /> <br />Give to me one fair form near me, <br />And I'll sigh no more for fame; <br />Better one sweet voice to cheer me, <br />Than the heartless crowd's acclaim. <br />Of fame's gifts I ask not any, <br />Its proud temples will I shun; <br />For the voices of the many, <br />Give to me the heart of one! <br /><br /><br />Owen Suffolk<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/untitled-7-2/