WHY is there in the least touch of her hands More grace than other womens' lips bestow, If love is but a slave in fleshly bands Of flesh to flesh, wherever love may go? Why choose vain grief and heavy-hearted hours For her lost voice, and dear remembered hair, If love may cull his honey from all flowers, And girls grow thick as violets, everywhere? Nay! She is gone, and all things fall apart; Or she is cold, and vainly have we prayed; And broken is the summer's splendid heart, And hope within a deep, dark grave is laid. As man aspires and falls, yet a soul springs Out of his agony of flesh at last, So love that flesh enthralls, shall rise on wings Soul-centred, when the rule of flesh is past. Then, most High Love, or wreathed with myrtle sprays, Or crownless and forlorn, nor less a star, Thee may I serve and follow, all my days, Whose thorns are sweet as never roses are! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...KILLED IN ACTION by ISAAC ROSENBERG PASSION'S HOUNDS by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES THE FORESTERS: NATIONAL SONG by ALFRED TENNYSON ARETEMIAS by ANTIPATER OF SIDON COMMENDATORY VERSE FOR THE FAERIE QUEENE by H. B. THE INVITATION by JAMES BARCLAY CRADLE SONG OF A SOLDIER'S WIFE by T. T. BARKER NORTHERN CALIFORNIA NIGHT (STRAITS OF CARQUINEZ) by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |