One word is too often profaned For me to profane it, One feeling too falsely disdained For thee to disdain it; One hope is too like despair For prudence to smother, And pity from thee more dear Than that from another. I can give not what men call love, But wilt thou accept not The worship the heart lifts above And the Heavens reject not, -- The desire of the moth for the star, Of the night for the morrow, The devotion to something afar From the sphere of our sorrow? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOLY POEMS: 3 by GEORGE BARKER A MEDITATION ON RHODE ISLAND COAL by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT ASKING FOR ROSES by ROBERT FROST THESEUS, SELECTION by BACCHYLIDES WHY DON'T THE MEN PROPOSE? by THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY UNDER A THOUSAND WORDS by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN TO A FRIEND IN THE NAVY, SICK AT HOME by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD |