Father! thy wonders do not singly stand, Nor far removed where feet have seldom strayed; Around us ever lies the enchanted land, In marvels rich to thine own sons displayed. In finding thee are all things round us found; In losing thee are all things lost beside; Ears have we, but in vain strange voices sound; And to our eyes the vision is denied. We wander in the country far remote, Mid tombs and ruined piles in death to dwell; Or on the records of past greatness dote, And for a buried soul the living sell; While on our path bewildered falls the night That ne'er returns us to the fields of light | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE YOUNG LAUNDRYMAN by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 55. ST. VALENTINE'S DAY by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE ANGEL'S SONG; CAROL by EDMUND HAMILTON SEARS VISIONS OF THE WORLDS VANITIE by EDMUND SPENSER A TOUCH OF NATURE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE LAST LULLABY by HENRY BATAILLE |