I love all beauteous things, I seek and adore them; God hath no better praise, And man in his hasty days Is honoured for them. I too will something make And joy in the making; Although to-morrow it seem Like the empty words of a dream Remembered on waking. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OLD OSAWATOMIE by CARL SANDBURG EPIGRAM ON MY WEDDING DAY: TO PENELOPE by GEORGE GORDON BYRON HIS RETURN TO LONDON by ROBERT HERRICK THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 31. HER GIFTS by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI UNCLE AN' AUNT by WILLIAM BARNES STANZAS TO AN AFFECTIONATE AND PIOUS PARENT, ON THE DEATH OF HER CHILD by BERNARD BARTON |