As tangled driftwood barring up a stream Against our struggling oars when hope is high To reach some fair green island we descry Lying beyond us in the morning's gleam, And shimmering like a landscape in a dream -- Yet waiting patiently the logs float by, And all our course lies open to the eye -- So sorrows come and go. What though they seem A blight whose touch might turn a young head gray, Joy dawns again. Hope beckons us before. The tide that pressed against us breaks our bars; The visionary islands smile once more. Life, with its rest by night, its work by day, Forgets the old griefs, and heals their deepest scars. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...INTELLECT by RALPH WALDO EMERSON REPRESSION OF WAR EXPERIENCE by SIEGFRIED SASSOON HILL MAN'S BURIAL by LILLIAN M. (PETTES) AINSWORTH THE JACKDAW OF RHEIMS by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM THE HEART'S PICTURES by HIRAM H. BICE THE WANDERER: 2. IN FRANCE: MADAME LA MARQUISE by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |