THERE was a shadow on his face, that spake Of passion long since harden'd into thought. He had a smile, a cold and scornful smile; Not gaiety, not sweetness, but the sign Of feelings moulded at their master's will. A weary world was hidden at that heart; Sorrow and strife were there, and it had learnt The weary lessons time and sorrow teach; And deeply felt itself the vanity Of love and hope, and now could only feel Distrust in them, and mockery for those Who could believe in what he knew was vain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MAKING THE BED by KAREN SWENSON DE GUSTIBUS' by ROBERT BROWNING ABYSS by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS A FIT OF RHYME AGAINST RHYME [OR, RIME] by BEN JONSON THE MAID'S LAMENT; ELIZABETHAN by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR THE DRUM: THE NARRATIVE OF THE DEMON OF TEDWORTH by EDITH SITWELL IN TEMPTATION by CHARLES WESLEY |