Yet, when I muse on what life is, I seem Rather to patience prompted, than that proud Prospect of hope which France proclaims so loud -- France, famed in all great arts, in none supreme; Seeing this vale, this earth, whereon we dream, Is on all sides o'ershadowed by the high Uno'erleaped Mountains of Necessity, Sparing us narrower margin than we deem. Nor will that day dawn at a human nod, When, bursting through the network superposed By selfish occupation -- plot and plan, Lust, avarice, envy -- liberated man, All difference with his fellow-mortal closed, Shall be left standing face to face with God. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OLD MAN by JEAN STARR UNTERMEYER ON THE TOMBS IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY by FRANCIS BEAUMONT ST. ISAAC'S CHURCH, PETROGRAD by CLAUDE MCKAY MANHATTAN ARMING by WALT WHITMAN SONG OF THE BROAD-AXE by WALT WHITMAN |