MOST men know love but as a part of life; They hide it in some corner of the breast, Even from themselves; and only when they rest In the brief pauses of that daily strife, Wherewith the world might else be not so rife, They draw it forth (as one draws forth a toy To soothe some ardent, kiss-exacting boy) And hold it up to sister, child, or wife. Ah me! why may not love and life be one? Why walk we thus alone, when by our side, Love, like a visible god, might be our guide? How would the marts grow noble! and the street, Worn like a dungeon-floor by weary feet, Seem then a golden court-way of the Sun! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DON JUAN: CANTO 1 by GEORGE GORDON BYRON IN THE VALLEY OF THE ELWY by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS AFTERNOON ON A HILL by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 16. AL-KAHHAR by EDWIN ARNOLD CHARACTERS: MRS. FENTON by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD BALLAD OF THE DOUBLE SOUL by JAMES BRANCH CABELL |