I HAVE but passed the first short stage Of life, and yet I'm growing weary; For every step towards riper age The way becomes more dreary. I look behind;—few years ago The world seemed full of fairy flowers,— I loved them; for I did not know How sin pervades Earth's loveliest bowers. Like Italy's fair sunny vales With unknown deathly vapors teeming— Or like Sahara's sand-charged gales Beneath a sun unclouded beaming,— Such is our Earth. Roam where you will, Seems loveliness the eye entrancing; The silent glen, the breezy hill, The sun-tipped wavelet blithely dancing. But gaze again. Each zephyr's breath Uplifts a veil, dark truths revealing; For all is stained with sin, and death The fairest buds is grimly sealing. That sense of sin! It casts a cloud O'er all Earth's scenes of glee and pleasure: Is nought then pure amid her crowd Of joys? nought spotless of her treasure? Nought, nought! cries Echo. How I love The spirit which to me is given! My priceless gem, my cherished dove, My sweetest, dearest gift of heaven How oft I've sought for solace in My own loved soul in hours of sadness; Oh, how I love it! It has been My more than friend, my fount of gladness. But oh, 'tis sinful! Even here My simple joy and love are ending; How can the mind to me be dear Where sin with every thought is blending? If e'en my Eden is not pure, How @3can@1 my heart's love rest below? Say, will the passage-bird endure To tarry 'mid the northern snow? It cannot rest! Like early dew A pure warm Sun hath called it higher Where sin is not; where, holy too, E'en @3I@1 may tune a sinless lyre. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPITAPH IN A CHURCH-YARD IN CHARLESTON, SOUTH CAROLINA by AMY LOWELL A VIEW ACROSS THE ROMAN CAMPAGNA by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING AFTER A VISIT by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR A MINUET ON REACHING THE AGE OF FIFTY by GEORGE SANTAYANA SIR JOHN FRANKLIN; ON THE CENTOTAPH IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY by ALFRED TENNYSON |