For all they see, the stars might never glow Nor burning Systems whirl their dust through space. For all they hear, fountains might never flow Nor bees rush, humming, through green clover lace. For all they breathe, the honeysuckle vine Never might spill her sweetness down the lane, High cliffs be odorous with the tang of pine, Nor salt winds caper from the cloud-flecked main. For all they feel, the storm need never break, The burgeoning hawthorn foam with red in spring, The sunset die in fire, the mountain wake To purple-misted dawn, the oriole sing. Yet how they seek, where tower walls are dense, Fragrance and light, and food for every sense! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ONLY A YEAR' by HARRIET BEECHER STOWE ODES: BOOK 1: ODE 5. AGAINST SUSPICION by MARK AKENSIDE IF I GROW OLD by ETHEL BERRY ALLEN PSALM 10. UT QUID DOMINE by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE THE ROWFANT CATALOGUE by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT HOLLYWOOD NOCTURNE by JANE BOWER THE GHOST by CHARLES CHURCHILL ON THE EXCELLENT POEMS OF MY MOST WORTHY FRIEND, MR. THOMAS FLATMAN by CHARLES COTTON |