Go, triflers with God's secret. Far, oh far Be your thin monotone, your brows Your backward-looking faces; for ye mar light. With flowers around the feverish temples bound, Take all the summer pleasures ye have While Circe- charm'd ye turn to bird and Meantime I sit apart, a lonely wight By those who sat before him in that On this bare rock amid this fitful Sea, And in the wind and rain I try to light A little lamp that may a Beacon be, Whereby poor ship -folk, driving thro' the night May gain the Ocean -course, and think of me! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CANADA by CHARLES GEORGE DOUGLAS ROBERTS THE PALACE OF ART by ALFRED TENNYSON TO SPAIN - A LAST WORD by EDITH MATILDA THOMAS ASPIRATIONS: 1 by MATHILDE BLIND HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 34 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH ENVY; A FRAGMENT by JANE BOWDLER THE DRYAD by ABBIE FARWELL BROWN |