Weak is the sophistry, and vain the art That whispers patience to the mind's despair! That bids reflection bathe the wounds of care, While Hope, with pleasing phantoms, soothes their smart; For memory still, reluctant to depart From the dear spot, once rich in prospects fair, Bids the fond soul enamored linger there, And its least charm is grateful to the heart! He never loved, who could not muse and sigh, Spangling the sacred turf with frequent tears, Where the small rivulet, that ripples by, Recalls the scenes of past and happier years, When, on its banks he watched the speaking eye, And one sweet smile o'erpaid an age of fears! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BOYHOOD FRIENDS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE WHITE RABBIT by KAREN SWENSON APOLLO by THOMAS HOLLEY CHIVERS SACRIFICE by RALPH WALDO EMERSON SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: CARL HAMBLIN by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |