WHY each is striving, from of old, To love more deeply than he can? Still would be true, yet still grows cold? --Ask of the Powers that sport with man! They yok'd in him, for endless strife, A heart of ice, a soul of fire; And hurl'd him on the Field of Life, An aimless unallay'd Desire. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PENITENTIAL PSALM: 143. DOMINE EXAUDI by THOMAS WYATT BUDMOUTH DEARS by THOMAS HARDY MISS KILMANSEGG AND HER PRECIOUS LEG: HER BIRTH by THOMAS HOOD TO THE GARDEN THE WORLD by WALT WHITMAN NATALIA'S RESURRECTION: 26 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE COLLEGE GARDEN; IN 1917 by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES |