Texas Attemtped: Preface

Where has gone my crimson muse
Who in my darkest dreams had stirred,
To countervail each sorrow's ruse
With interludes of light and word?

The summer sun with laden gold
Has scorched the candles where they slept.
And I, a boy who has grown old,
Am nothing but the tears I wept.

Where are the soldiers, where the kings,
Who test their mettle in the field?
They sicken as the drunkard sings,
And to the clubs and bars they yield.

So come to me again my muse
And lift me from these shallow tides;
Direct me onwards as you choose,
Unto the place where glory hides.