What hope is here for modern rhyme To him who turns a musing eye On songs, and deeds, and lives, that lie Foreshortened in the tract of time? These mortal lullabies of pain May bind a book, may line a box, May serve to curl a maiden's locks: Or when a thousand moons shall wane A man upon a stall may find, And, passing, turn the page that tells A grief, then changed to something else, Sung by a long-forgotten mind. But what of that? My darkened ways Shall ring with music all the same; To breathe my loss is more than fame, To utter love more sweet than praise. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LINES TO A MOVEMENT IN MOZART'S E-FLAT SYMPHONY by THOMAS HARDY WALT WHITMAN by HARRISON SMITH MORRIS SISTER HELEN by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE END OF THE SUNSET TRAIL by ALMA C. BINGHAM THE NOBLE LAY OF AILLINN by STOPFORD AUGUSTUS BROOKE |