To me the groaning of world-worshippers Rings like a lonely music played in hell By one with art enough to cleave the walls Of heaven with his cadence, but without The wisdom or the will to comprehend The strangeness of his own perversity, And all without the courage to deny The profit and the pride of his defeat. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SELF-INTERROGATION by EMILY JANE BRONTE THIS SUMMER AND LAST by THOMAS HARDY ODE TO THE SWALLOW by ANACREON THE WANDERING JEW by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN BLESSINGS by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER IT'S HARD TO SAY by BERTON BRALEY |