I held it truth, with him who sings To one clear harp in divers tones, That men may rise on stepping-stones Of their dead selves to higher things. But who shall so forecast the years And find in loss a gain to match? Or reach a hand thro' time to catch The far-off interest of tears? Let Love clasp Grief lest both be drown'd, Let darkness keep her raven gloss. Ah, sweeter to be drunk with loss, To dance with Death, to beat the ground, Than that the victor Hours should scorn The long result of love, and boast, 'Behold the man that loved and lost, But all he was is overworn.' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WRITTEN FOR MY SON, AND SPOKEN BY HIM AT HIS FIRST PUTTING ON BREECHES by MARY BARBER GOD'S GRANDEUR by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS MONNA INNOMINATA, A SONNET OF SONNETS: 11 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI NORTH-WEST PASSAGE: 3. IN PORT by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON PENULTIMATE PURITAN by HELEN L. BARNES |