Mute-lipped— unquestioning grim-visaged Fate, I cleave the shadows toward the Western Gate; And yet— my lagging heart still holds Mute-arms outstretched Unto earth's gleaming folds. Who knows? perhaps Hope's blossoms spray In lush profusion O'er the edge of day! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...UNWANTED MEMORY by CLARENCE MAJOR THE SPHINX by RALPH WALDO EMERSON THE END OF THE EPISODE by THOMAS HARDY EVANGELINE; A TALE OF ACADIE by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW AN ARMY CORPS ON THE MARCH by WALT WHITMAN |