A wretched thing it were, to have our heart Like a thronged highway or a populous street, Where every idle thought has leave to meet, Pause, or pass on as in an open mart; Or like some road-side pool, which no nice art Has guarded that the cattle may not beat And foul it with a multitude of feet, Till of the heavens it can give back no part. But keep thou thine a holy solitude, For He who would walk there, would walk alone; He who would drink there, must be first endued With single right to call that stream his own; Keep thou thine heart, close fastened, unrevealed, A fencèd garden, and a fountain sealed. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NON SUM QUALIS ERAM BONAE SUB REGNO CYNARAE by ERNEST CHRISTOPHER DOWSON MONNA INNOMINATA, A SONNET OF SONNETS: 11 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE YOUNG GRAY HEAD by CAROLINE ANNE BOWLES SOUTHEY ODE TO REMORSE by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE CEREMONY OF THE PRINTER'S APPRENTICE; A GERMAN MORALITY PLAY by WILLAM BLADES |