Inside the skull the wakeful brain, Attuned at birth to joy and pain, Dwells for a lifetime; even as one Who in a closed tower sees the sun Cast faint-hued shadows, dim or clear, Upon the darkened disc: now near, Now far, they flit; while he, within, Surveys the world he may not win: Whate'er he sees, he notes; for nought Escapes the net of living thought; And what he notes, he tells again To last and build the brains of men. Shades are we; and of shades we weave A trifling pleasant make-believe; Then pass into the shadowy night, Where formless shades blindfold the light. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...INFANT JOY, FR. SONGS OF INNOCENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE HYMN OF THE CITY by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT THE LAST POST by ROBERT RANKE GRAVES A SPIRITUAL LEGEND by PHILIP JAMES BAILEY PHANTOM OF LIFE by VIOLET MCKAY BALL THE WANDERER: 1. IN ITALY: ON THE SEA by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |