IT is an awful thing how we forget The sacred ties that bind us each to each. Our pleasures might admonish us, and say, Tremble at that delight which is unshared: Its selfishness must be its punishment. All have their sorrows, and how strange it seems They do not soften more the general heart: Sorrows should be those universal links That draw all life together. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE NIGHT OF TRAFALGAR by THOMAS HARDY SOMEBODY'S DARLING by MARIE LA CONTE CRITICS AND CONNOISSEURS by MARIANNE MOORE SONG OF THE SILENT LAND by JOHANN GAUDENZ VON SALIS-SEEWIS PEPITA by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE MYSTIC by PHILIP JAMES BAILEY THE LOST COLORS by MARY A. BARR IN VINCULIS; SONNETS WRITTEN IN AN IRISH PRISON: THE TWO VOICES by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |