HOW countlessly they congregate O'er our tumultuous snow, Which flows in shapes as tall as trees When wintry winds do blow!-- As if with keenness for our fate, Our faltering few steps on To white rest, and a place of rest Invisible at dawn,-- And yet with neither love nor hate, Those stars like some snow-white Minerva's snow-white marble eyes Without the gift of sight. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO BAYARD TAYLOR by SIDNEY LANIER THE NIGHTINGALE; A CONVERSATION POEM by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE HOMAGE TO THE BRITISH MUSEUM by WILLIAM EMPSON THE RESPECTABLE BURGHER, ON 'THE HIGHER CRITICISM' by THOMAS HARDY AN ELEGY: TO AN OLD BEAUTY by THOMAS PARNELL PRAYER FOR A DREAM by JOHN C. ADLER |