HEART! art thou dead within me? Why this calm To see thy joy die with the dying year? When more is fact than ever thou didst fear Of all thou would'st not have of hurt and harm; When less than thou hadst pictured is of balm In uttermost surrender; when more dear Seems that thou hast surrendered, now and here, Than ever aught before? Why no alarm To face the blank black morning of to-morrow With not one partisan for thine own sorrow? Why canst thou smile, O silly heart! to see The cold strewn ruin of the life of thee? Haply yet more than love's dear joy lies dead, -- Thy very self of self that suffered? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH: A DREAM OF PONCE DE LEON by HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH THE CLIFF SWALLOWS by DEBRA NYSTROM BEREAVED by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY FETES GALANTES: MANDOLINE by PAUL VERLAINE MUSIC OF HUNGARY by ANNE REEVE ALDRICH WINDS OF LIFE by MARJORIE DUGDALE ASHE APRIL by MARY RUSSELL BARTLETT |