Another day, and with it that brute joy, Or that prophetic rapture of the boy Whom every morning brings as glad a breath As if it dawned upon the end of death! All other days have run the common course, And left me at their going neither worse Nor better form them; only, a little older, A little sadder, and a little colder. But this, it seems as if this day might be The day I somehow always thought to see, And that should come to bless me past the scope And measure of my farthest-reaching hope. To-day, maybe, the things that were concealed Before the first day was, shall be revealed, The riddle of our misery shall be read, And it be clear whether the dead are dead. Before this sun shall sink into the west The tired earth may have fallen on his breast, And into heaven the world have passed away ... At any rate, it is another day! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LOVER IN HELL by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET SONNET TO THE RIVER OTTER by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE EPITAPHS OF THE WAR, 1914-18: A DRIFTER OFF TARENTUM by RUDYARD KIPLING EIGHTEEN SIXTY-ONE by WALT WHITMAN TO BE CARVED ON A STONE AT THOOR BALLYLEE (1) by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE AMERICAN FIREMAN by CHRISTOPHER BANNISTER SIR RUPERT THE FEARLESS; A LEGEND OF GERMANY by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |