LITTLE they know us, ev'n who know us best. Oft, when the social circle, frank and gay, Sports with the topics of the passing day, I seem, at friendly challenge, with keen zest To catch and echo back the flying jest; Yet will my inmost thought be far away -- Like bird that lights, and lights, but does not stay -- Beside my lost ones in their long low rest. One sleeps in Erin, near the home she bless'd, Where grateful hearts still worship her; and one, Who pass'd, his active manhood scarce begun, And all his poet-soul yet unexpress'd, Lies under tamarisk boughs, where Afric's sun Looks down on hallow'd ground at Beaufortwest. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A LINE-STORM SONG by ROBERT FROST TO MUSIC [TO BECALM HIS FEVER] by ROBERT HERRICK THE SUPLIANTS: IO. CHORUS by AESCHYLUS STANZAS: IN THE MANNER OF SPENSER by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD ITALY AND THE WORLD by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE UNKNOWN WIND by DOROTHY BURGESS |