WE know, O faltering heart, Thy need is great: But weary is the way that leads to art, And all who journey there must bear their part -- Must bear their part, and -- wait. The way is wild and steep, And desolate: No flowers blossom there, nor lilies peep Above the walls to warn you, as you weep, With one white whisper -- "Wait." You will find thorns, alas! And keen as fate: And, reaching from rank fens of withered grass, Briers will clutch your feet, nor let you pass -- And you must wait -- must wait. And though with failing sight You see the gate Of Promise locked and barred, with swarthy Night Guarding the golden keys of morning-light, -- Press bravely on -- and wait. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET: 18. ON THE LATE MASSACRE IN PIEDMONT by JOHN MILTON SONNET: 148 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE UNDERWOODS: BOOK 1: 5. THE HOUSE BEAUTIFUL by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON COMPOSED AT NEIDPATH CASTLE, 1803 by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH A FARMHOUSE DIRGE by ALFRED AUSTIN TWELVE SONNETS: 3. THE VALLEY ROSES by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |