To-day my heart is broken,—and I feel No rest in love, no recompence in song: The slow sick weary moments crawl along; Not one can answer my forlorn appeal. And thou art far away whose spirit strong Brings hope and light and comfort:—now these steal Away from me, a shivering ghost-like throng, And no sweet God would answer,—did I kneel. O heart, heart, heart,—that triest to understand,— Keep thou for ever from the genius-land, And mingle not with agony like mine! "A bay-wreathed poet" means a brow that drips With blood for ever. Kiss not thou my lips, Lest the eternal poet's-doom be thine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TWO POEMS FROM THE WAR: 1 by ARCHIBALD MACLEISH THE BOOK OF MARTYRS by EMILY DICKINSON A LOVE SONG by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE WHITE SHIPS AND THE RED by ALFRED JOYCE KILMER ENDYMION by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW |