When the stunned soul can first lift tired eyes On her changed world of ruin, waste and wrack, Ah, what a pang of aching sharp surprise Brings all sweet memories of the lost past back, With wild self-pitying grief of one betrayed, Duped in a land of dreams where Truth is dead! Are these the heavens that she deemed were kind? Is this the world that yesterday was fair? What painted images of folk half-blind Be these who pass her by, as vague as air? What go they seeking? there is naught to find. Let them come nigh and hearken her despair. A mocking lie is all she once believed, And where her heart throbbed, is a cold dead stone. This is a doom she never preconceived, Yet now she cannot fancy it undone. Part of herself, part of the whole hard scheme, All else is but the shadow of a dream. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOLY POEMS: 1 by GEORGE BARKER THE LEAPING POLL by WILLIAM HERVEY ALLEN JR. MORTAL JEALOUSY by PHILIP AYRES KING EDWARD THE THIRD by WILLIAM BLAKE CREATIVE URGE by EMMA BRADFIELD MY UPPER SHELVES by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON MISS NOBODY'S CHRISTMAS DINNER by WILLIAM ALLEN BUTLER UPON MY LORD CHIEF JUSTICE HIS ELECTION OF MY LADY ANNE WENTWORTH FOR HIS MISTRESS by THOMAS CAREW |