NOTHING there is on earth we may not lose, Nothing quite firm: we lose the spring each year, The sun each day, the flowers as they appear; But when that sure, sad voice its plaint renews, "Yea, it is possible that we may lose Even our God." O infinitely near, Far Spirit, I am struck with sudden fear! A fading falls across my thoughts. I choose All to forego, all to obliterate Sooner than miss remembered joy of Thee, Who art alone most worth remembering. Break every hope, save of Thyself, in me, So that Thou fail me not, O Fount, O Spring Given in the desert to my bitter state! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ODES: BOOK 1. ODE 1. PREFACE by MARK AKENSIDE MODERN MANNERS by MARY (CUMBERLAND) ALCOCK A WINTRY LULLABY by LAWRENCE ALMA-TADEMA THE MONEY DIGGERS by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD ITALY AND THE WORLD by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |