I dream no more of varied love, Nor lust for wealth and fame. (A soul afire wings free above Self-joy and courted name.) But let me chant one living song Before my voice is spent, And to that end anew grow strong To shun false ravishment: -- Command, my soul, the mists to clear, Supplant all sterile roles; Then may I sing in words that sear Their rhythm on kindred souls. This grace on me, O Fate, bestow, So I to death shall smiling go. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GETTING A WORD IN by JAMES GALVIN THE CAMBODIAN BOX by KAREN SWENSON THE GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS SORROW by DAVID HERBERT LAWRENCE THE SONG OF HIAWATHA: THE FOUR WINDS by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW AT PORT ROYAL by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER THE TENT ON THE BEACH: 8. THE CABLE HYMN by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER |