Who, thinking on death, decides To somehow live, forever, No longer stops to weigh The peril of endeavor; In last year's dwelling gay No more in peace abides, Nor lets a new hour stay Serene in an old delight. Too slow the flying day! Too long the idle night! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HUGH SELWYN MAUBERLEY: 5 by EZRA POUND STILL FALLS THE RAIN; THE RAIDS, 1940. NIGHT AND DAWN by EDITH SITWELL SONNET WRITTEN IN THE FALL OF 1914: 4 by GEORGE EDWARD WOODBERRY ON SEEING BLENHEIM CASTLE by LUCY AIKEN FROM AN OFFICE WINDOW by FRANCES M. BALLARD A LOVE IDYLL by ANNA CORNELIA BOWEN |