THE heavens are our riddle; and the sea, Forested earth, the grassy rustling plain, Snows, rains, and thunders. Yea, and even we Before ourselves stand ominous. In vain ! The stars still march their way, the sea still rolls, The forests wave, the plain drinks in the sun, And we stand silent, naked, -- with tremulous souls, -- Before our unsolved selves. We pray to one Whose hand should help us. But we hear no voice; Skies clear and darken; the days pale and pass, Nor any bids us weep or bids rejoice. Only the wind sobs in the shrivelling grass, -- Only the wind, -- and we with upward eyes Expectant of the silence of the skies. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MERCILES BEAUTE; A TRIPLE ROUNDEL: 3. ESCAPE by GEOFFREY CHAUCER ANNABEL LEE by EDGAR ALLAN POE ROOTS AND LEAVES THEMSELVES ALONE by WALT WHITMAN FAREWELL, UNKIST by THOMAS WYATT A SONG ABOUT SINGING by ANNE REEVE ALDRICH |