Life in you is an incurious madness. Tell me, how good is life that is not known And is but felt, like wind against the temples, Like touch beneath the feet, of turf or stone? But do not hear me, Lover of life; an answer Is burning like a sorrow in my breast: There is flame in feeling, fineness in the knowing, And who shall say which way of life is best? Pass on, Seeker, seeking the touch of spaces. Many the ways of life, and many a one Is all too brief a fluttering of hours To serve our purpose here beneath the sun. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ONE CROWDED HOUR, FR. OLD MORTALITY by WALTER SCOTT TRITON ESURIENS by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN THE LITTLE CLOUD by JOHN HOWARD BRYANT THE GOAL by JOSEPH SEAMON COTTER JR. ODE; TO CHLORIS by CHARLES COTTON AT THE SEASIDE by DINAH MARIA MULOCK CRAIK |