POET, whose footsteps led by "dreadful height" And loathsome floor of uttermost abyss, Whose deep eyes searched the sun and night in night, Whose lips knew golden philtres and the kiss Of leaning stars, wormwood and bitter gall— While now thy mortal feet lie eastward, still, Where do thy spirit's soundless footsteps fall? Pass they by some far peak or gleaming hill Of Paradise, where secret music swells? Or tread they where, through incensed arbours, flow Celestial streams? or where, by long-wished wells Of immortality, the amaranths blow? Where'er they pass, save Peace, they cannot meet Aught wholly strange of bitter or of sweet. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OUR CAMP; IN THE AUTUMN WOODS by ROBERT FROST NURSING HOME: THE DOLL by KAREN SWENSON CANCIONEROS: 2 by CRISTOBAL DE CASTILLEJO THE TREASURES OF THE DEEP by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS THE DARK ANGEL by LIONEL PIGOT JOHNSON |