ALL beautiful things bring sadness, nor alone Music, whereof that wisest poet spake; Because in us keen longings they awake After the good for which we pine and groan, From which exil'd we make continual moan, Till once again we may our spirits slake At those clear streams, which man did first forsake, When he would dig for fountains of his own. All beauty makes us sad, yet not in vain: For who would be ungracious to refuse, Or not to use, this sadness without pain, Whether it flows upon us from the hues Of sunset, from the time of stars and dews, From the clear sky, or waters pure of stain? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HER EYES by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE HAUNTED OAK by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR WOODNOTES: 2 by RALPH WALDO EMERSON THE GARDEN SEAT by THOMAS HARDY TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN: THE FIRST DAY: ROBERT OF SICILY by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW PORTRAIT D'UNE FEMME by EZRA POUND THE SPIRIT OF THE TIMES by ALEXANDER ANDERSON |