Surely there is an aching void within Man's spirit unto other men unknown And which were it unveiled and freely shown Would open to the site of so much of sin And folly & a cry of a din His overbearing pride & overblown Would quite shrink down & seem as if it had grown Humble, content to lose & not to win. Oh that we could so hide gthe grief of years From our own selves yea the whole guilt & trouble And in our secret spirit look on grace; Yet death for ever sendeth messengers Before it conscience pricks, & were these double They were not equal to our sin-stained face. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...UNDER A TELEPHONE POLE by CARL SANDBURG MADEIRA FROM THE SEA by SARA TEASDALE EPISTLE TO MR. MURRAY by GEORGE GORDON BYRON A THUNDERSTORM IN TOWN by THOMAS HARDY THE LAST DEMAND by FAITH BALDWIN EPIGRAM by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM ABSENCE by JOHN ARTHUR BLAIKIE THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 103. WRITTEN AT FLORENCE: 1 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |