But the heart murmurs at so harsh a tone. So sunk in tears it lies, so gone in grief, With its own blood 'twould venture, far more lief, Than underprize one drop of sorrow's own Or grudge one hour of mournful idleness. To idle time indeed--to moan our moan And then go shivering from a folded gate, Broken in heart and life, exheredate Of all we loved: yet some, from dire distress, Accounting tears no loss and grief no crime, Have gleaned up gold and made their walk sublime. So he, poor wanderer in steps like theirs, May find his griefs, though it must be with tears, Gold grit and grail, washed from the sands of time. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GOSSAMER by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TUNK (A LECTURE ON MODERN EDUCATION) by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON VENUS IN A GARDEN by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON STREET-CRIES: 7. A SONG OF LOVE by SIDNEY LANIER THE HEART'S RETURN by EDWIN MARKHAM |