The prosperous and beautiful To me seem not to wear The yoke of conscience masterful, Which galls me everywhere. I cannot shake off the god; On my neck he makes his seat; I look at my face in the glass, -- My eyes his eyeballs meet. Enchanters! enchantresses! Your gold makes you seem wise; The morning mist within your grounds More proudly rolls, more softly lies. Yet spake yon purple mountain, Yet said yon ancient wood, That Night or Day, that Love or Crime, Leads all souls to the Good. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: ELSA WERTMAN by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE MARYLAND BATTALION [AUGUST 27, 1776] by JOHN WILLIAMSON PALMER THE STUDY OF A SPIDER by JOHN BYRNE LEICESTER WARREN THE MOTHERLAND by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH VULTURES by GHALIB IBN RIBAH AL-HAJJAM AUSTERITY OF POETRY by MATTHEW ARNOLD URANIA; THE WOMAN IN THE MOON: THIS STORY MORALIZED by WILLIAM BASSE |