IT is most true -- and most untrue! Though all should die of Me and You And all of later men who press This weary ball, 'tis like, no less, That our stray thistle-down of thought Claimed of some winnowing breeze, and brought To some safe seeding-place, may lie Securely there, and fructify; And -- in a world still out of joint -- May serve some bard for starting-point Of some yet larger utterance whence New bards shall borrow, aeons hence. What skills it then, though We be done: Our thought is living -- and lives on! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON THE BUILDING OF SPRINGFIELD by NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN! by WALT WHITMAN PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 60. AL-MU'HID by EDWIN ARNOLD A TRIBUTE TO WILL ROGERS AND WILEY POST by ROSETTA THORSON BEACHLER ON THE VIRGINITY OF THE VIRGIN MARY AND JOHANNA SOUTHCOTT by WILLIAM BLAKE WHATEVER IS, IS RIGHT by SAMUEL LAMAN BLANCHARD DIPPING CANDLES IN VERMONT by DANIEL LEAVENS CADY |