THE varied colours are a fitful heap: They pass in constant service though they sleep; The self gone out of them, therewith the pain: Read that, who still to spell our earth remain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...COUNTRYWOMEN by KATHERINE MANSFIELD MOTLEY: MUSIC by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE ROMEO AND JULIET by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH PHAENOMENA: WHEN JUSTICE DWELT ON EARTH by ARATUS PURIFICATION OF YE B. VIRGIN (TO A BASE, A TENOR, AND TWO TREBLES) by JOSEPH BEAUMONT AN OLD DREAM by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE |