CLOUDS here and there arisen an hour past noon <br />Chequered our English heaven with lengthening bars <br />And shadow and sound of wheel-winged thunder-cars <br />Assembling strength to put forth tempest soon, <br />When the clear still warm concord of thy tune <br />Rose under skies unscared by reddening Mars <br />Yet, like a sound of silver speech of stars, <br />With full mild flame as of the mellowing moon. <br />Grave and great-hearted Massinger, thy face <br />High melancholy lights with loftier grace <br />Than gilds the brows of revel: sad and wise, <br />The spirit of thought that moved thy deeper song, <br />Sorrow serene in soft calm scorn of wrong, <br />Speaks patience yet from thy majestic eyes.<br /><br />Algernon Charles Swinburne<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/philip-massinger-v/
