Oft when the Word is on me to deliver Lifts the illusion and the truth lies bare; Desert or throng, the city or the river, Melts in a lucid Paradise of air,— Only like souls I see the folk thereunder, Bound who should conquer, slaves who should be kings,— Hearing their one hope with an empty wonder, Sadly contented in a show of things;— Then with a rush the intolerable craving Shivers throughout me like a trumpet-call,— Oh to save these! to perish for their saving, Die for their life, be offered for them all! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NOT BY THE SEA by SARA TEASDALE SONG OF THE RABBITS OUTSIDE THE TAVERN by ELIZABETH JANE COATSWORTH GERONTION by THOMAS STEARNS ELIOT CALAIS SANDS by MATTHEW ARNOLD DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: DIRGE by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES HIS GLORY TELL by HORATIO (HORATIUS) BONAR THE WANDERER: 5. IN HOLLAND: TO CORDELIA by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |