THE snows of death are drifting deep, And I have nothing left to gain, Save the long legacy of sleep Beyond the reach of joy or pain. But you, the lithe and strong of thew, -- For you the onward-luring star, The splendors of the sun, -- for you Youth's ardors that eternal are; To note the spring's ecstatic stir, The faint red maple-buds unclose; To be the violet's worshiper, And play the wooer to the rose; To watch the swallow, swift of wing, Soaring across the sky's blue nave; To hear the minstrel oriole sing, A rapture in each golden stave; To know love's sweet companionship Along the wonder-haloed height; To press unto the eager lip The purple fruitage of delight. Yours the glad sowing of the grain, The harvest happiness to reap; While I have nothing left to gain, Save the long legacy of sleep! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MONNA INNOMINATA, A SONNET OF SONNETS: 12 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE MOUNTAIN TOMB: 1. TO A CHILD DANCING IN THE WIND by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE TRAGEDY by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH VISIONS IN VERSE: 5. HAPPINESS by NATHANIEL COTTON THE VAIN LOVE by ABRAHAM COWLEY TO A YOUNG LADY WHO STOLE A PEN FROM THE PRINCE OF WALES'S STANDISH by WILLIAM COWPER |