FROM the drear wastes of unfulfilled desire, We harvest dreams that never come to pass, Then pour our wine amid the dying fire, And on the cold hearth break the empty glass. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE YOUTH OF NATURE: WORDSWORTH'S COUNTRY by MATTHEW ARNOLD VERSES TO HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE DUCHESS OF YORK by JOHN DRYDEN ODE TO A NIGHTINGALE by JOHN KEATS ODES I, 38. AD MINISTRAM by QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS A PIPER by JAMES SULLIVAN STARKEY ON VENUS ARISING FROM THE SEA by ANTIPATER OF SIDON RECALLED by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |