I missed him when the sun began to bend; I found him not when I had lost his rim; With many tears I went in search of him, Climbing high mountains which did still ascend, And gave me echoes when I called my friend; Through cities vast and charnel-houses grim, And high cathedrals where the light was dim, Through books and arts and works without an end, But found him not—the friend whom I had lost. And yet I found him—as I found the lark, A sound in fields I heard but could not mark; I found him nearest when I missed Him most; I found him in my heart, a life in frost, A light I knew not till my soul was dark. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO A POET, WHO WOULD HAVE ME PRAISE CERTAIN BAD POETS, IMITATORS ... by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS A VALEDICTION: OF MY NAME IN THE WINDOW by JOHN DONNE THE LONELY CHILD by JAMES OPPENHEIM FIRELIGHT by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON BEFORE PARTING by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE WALT WHITMAN by FRANCIS HOWARD WILLIAMS |