WHEN I reflect how little I have done, And add to that how little I have seen, Then furthermore how little I have won Of joy, or good, how little known, or been: I long for other life more full, more keen, And yearn to change with such as well have run -- Yet reason mocks me -- nay, the soul, I ween, Granted her choice would dare to change with none; No, -- not to feel, as Blondel when his lay Pierced the strong tower, and Richard answered it -- No, -- not to do, as Eustace on the day He left fair Calais to her weeping fit -- No, -- not to be Columbus, waked from sleep When his new world rose from the charmed deep. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHEN THE GREAT GRAY SHIPS COME IN [AUGUST 20, 1898] by GUY WETMORE CARRYL ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 32 by PHILIP SIDNEY WHEN by SARAH CHAUNCEY WOOLSEY MYRMIDONES: THE WOUNDED EAGLE by AESCHYLUS ON MRS PRIESTLEY'S LEAVING WARRINGTON by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |