I hear a Voice no other man can hear, Blown o'er these thrice three-hundred leagues of land: Its import what the common stander-near Would ridicule if he could understand; For, from the prudent present world withdrawn, Self-tranced, I hearken that which bids me flee The stubborn heartless fact, insist upon The Beauty of wild Impossibility! I haunt a Past where I no more have part, Am faithful to a visionary thing,— The Saint is gone, but still the tapers shine!— Kneel to a hopeless Hope,—I cannot cling To holier altar than Her heavenly heart, Nor spill devotion at a fairer shrine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BUCOLIC COMEDY: WHY by EDITH SITWELL AFTER THE RAIN by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE BLACK RIDERS: 22 by STEPHEN CRANE THE FAMILY MAN by JOHN GODFREY SAXE TO THE UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE, IN NEW-ENGLAND by PHILLIS WHEATLEY THE COWBOY'S DANCE SONG by JAMES BARTON ADAMS A NEW PILGRIMAGE: 39 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |