The faint lose faith When in the tomb their all is laid, And there returns No echoing of weal or woe. The strong hope on, They see the clods close over head, The grass grow green, No word is said, And yet— A little world within the world Are we, Daily our hearts' high yearnings fade, Are buried! New ones are made,— Are crucified! @3And yet@1— | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LET ME NOT LOSES MY DREAM by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON AN EXPOSTULATION by ISAAC BICKERSTAFFE THE BROOKSIDE by RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM by ALEXANDER POPE PIONEER WOMAN by EVA K. ANGLESBURG HON. MR. SUCKLETHUMBKIN'S STORY: THE EXECUTION; A SPORTING ANECDOTE by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |