O Eros of the mountains, of the earth, One thing I know of thee that thou art old, Far, sovereign, lonesome tyrant of the dearth Of chaos, ruler of the primal cold! None gave thee nurture: chaos' icy rings Pressed on thy plenitude. O fostering power, Thine the first voice, first warmth, first golden wings, First blowing zephyr, earliest opened flower; Thine the first smile of Time: thou hast no mate, Thou art alone forever giving all: After thine image, Love, thou did'st create Man to be poor, man to be prodigal; And thus, O awful god, he is endued With the raw hungers of thy solitude. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE NEGRO'S TRAGEDY by CLAUDE MCKAY THE ITINERANT POET'S ROAD SONG by KAREN SWENSON THE GIRL OF CADIZ by GEORGE GORDON BYRON THIS LIME-TREE BOWER MY PRISON by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE THE INDIAN BURYING GROUND by PHILIP FRENEAU |