AS when the hunt by holt and field Drives on with horn and strife, Hunger of hopeless things pursues Our spirits throughout life. The sea's roar fills us aching full Of objectless desire -- The sea's roar, and the white moon-shine, And the reddening of the fire. Who talks to me of reason now? It would be more delight To have died in Cleopatra's arms Than be alive to-night. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET: 110 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE AN ARMY CORPS ON THE MARCH by WALT WHITMAN E TENEBRIS [FROM THE SHADOWS] by OSCAR WILDE GOOD LUCK by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS BEAUTY by WILLIMINA L. ARMSTRONG THE LITTLE OLD WOMEN by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE NATALIA'S RESURRECTION: 4 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |