I WHAT is the spirit? Nay, We know not -- star in clay. We know not, yet we trust The dream within the dust. We trust not, yet we hark The song within the dark. II These few bewildered days Ask little blame or praise. All mortal deeds go by As cloudlets down the sky. We are our longing. Thus Let Love remember us. III We know not whither beat Its wings, nor what defeat Death's mighty muffling glooms May cast on fluttering plumes, Or if it be success -- That folded quietness. IV When like a flaming scroll Earth shrivels, if the soul Should those fierce heats outwear, What of ourselves were there? A longing bruised and dim, A seed of seraphim. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OCTAVES: 21 by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE BARMAID AND THE ALEXANDRITE by KAREN SWENSON SONG OF THE STYGIAN NAIADES by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE EARLY MORNING by HILAIRE BELLOC THE WANDERER: 2. IN FRANCE: THE CHESSBOARD by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON TO MY SISTER by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH ODE TO WORK by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS INSCRIPTIONS: 2. FOR A STATUE OF CHAUCER AT WOODSTOCK by MARK AKENSIDE |