O SAD-EYED man who yonder sits, Face in a book from morn till night, Who, though the world should go to bits, Pores on right through the waning light; O is it sorrow or delight That holds you, though the sun has set? "I read," he said, "what these fools write, Not to remember -- but forget." "Man drinks or gambles, woman knits, To put their sorrow out of sight, From folly unto folly flits The weary mind, or wrong or right; My melancholy taketh flight Reading the worst books I can get, The worst -- yet best! such is my plight -- Not to remember -- but forget." "'Tis not alone the immortal wits, The lords of language, pens of might, Past masters of the word that fits In their mosaic true and bright, That aid us in our mortal fight, And heal us of our wild regret, But books that humbler pens indite, Not to remember -- but forget." ENVOI "O Prince, 'tis but the neophyte Who scorns this humble novelette You watch me reading, un-contrite -- Not to remember -- but forget." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GOOD AND BAD LUCK by HEINRICH HEINE SONNET: 36 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE THE AGE OF WISDOM by WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY TO MYRTILLA OF NEW YORK by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS IN AN ALBUM by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS LAIS' MIRROR by DECIMUS MAGNUS AUSONIUS FELIX OPPORTUNITATE MORTIS by ALFRED AUSTIN THE AGE OF HERBERT & VAUGHAN by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN TO AN UNFORTUNATE WOMAN AT THE THEATRE by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE |