Oh, time will break us as it has the others. The beautiful and strong, the gay, the proud Between the cradling breasts of their two mothers, Have sung their weary hearts out to the crowd. Rich in metal that no mint may utter, They struck hot molten youth into a song, And with it won the solace of the gutter -- Villon, and Poe, and all the lonely throng. And here today, while our own songs unsung Still hum pent fire in our quick arteries; While the sweet agony of being young Is ours; and this pollen-heavy breeze Has loosed your hair, and fanned a sudden flame, I wonder so -- I falter on your name. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EVENING SONG OF THE TYROLESE PEASANTS by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS IN HOSPITAL: 28. DISCHARGED by WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY SONNET: 9. TO A VIRTUOUS YOUNG LADY by JOHN MILTON THE SHEPHEARDES CALENDER: NOVEMBER by EDMUND SPENSER THE BIRD WITH THE COPPERY, KEEN CLAWS by WALLACE STEVENS |