We drink life's cup with thirsty lips, Our eyes shut fast to fears; About the golden rim there drips Our staining blood, our tears. But when the last swift hour comes on, The light long hid is lit, From startled eyes the band is gone, We suffer and submit. It is not our part to possess The cup that golden gleamed. We see its shallow emptiness: We did not drink—we dreamed. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SURFACES AND MASKS; 4 by CLARENCE MAJOR LOVE AND DEATH by SARA TEASDALE ESTHER; A YOUNG MAN'S TRAGEDY: 51 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT FRAGMENT, ON THE BACK OF THE POET'S MS. OF CANTO I OF 'DON JUAN' by GEORGE GORDON BYRON HOW'S MY BOY? by SYDNEY THOMPSON DOBELL A NOCTURNAL UPON ST. LUCY'S DAY, BEING THE SHORTEST DAY by JOHN DONNE THE DAY IS DONE by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW |