We seem to tread the self-same street, To pace the self-same courts or grass; Parting, our hands appear to meet: O vanitatum vanitas! Distant as earth from heaven or hell From thee the things to me most dear: Ghost-thronged Cocytus and thy will Between us rush. We might be near. Thy world is fair: my thoughts refuse To dance its dance or drink its wine; Nor canst thou hear the reeds and yews That sigh to me from lands not thine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RAVAGED VILLA by HERMAN MELVILLE ON THE COLLAR OF MRS. DINGLEY'S LAP-DOG by JONATHAN SWIFT THE OLD VAGABOND by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER SECOND BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 16 by THOMAS CAMPION BALLAD TO THE TUNE OF TROY TOWN by PATRICK CAREY A SONG OF THE LITTLE CITY by WILFRED ROWLAND CHILDE CORYBANTIAST by MARY BRENNAN CLAPP SEVEN SONNETS ON THE THOUGHT OF DEATH: 6 by ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH |