But Thought, like a mailed archer helmed and tall, Treads ever on the outward battlement, Striving to pierce--through embrasure and rent-- The secret of the gloom that girdleth all, The immeasurable gulf and interval, Nor heeds the random showers about him sent-- But whilst the cloudy squadrons tramp and wheel, Busy with weight and bar and implement, He casteth where to make his missiles fall-- Training his engine now, now lower, now higher, As a strong archer sets his bow of steel. Yet some may pass like meteors to the mark Of those blind ventures loosed into the dark: So swift the arrow flies, it taketh fire. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WHITE WITCH by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON RETROSPECT by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON WHERE? by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON YOUTH'S PROGENY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE RIVALS by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE HARD TIMES IN ELFLAND; A STORY OF CHRISTMAS EVE by SIDNEY LANIER TO OUR MOCKING-BIRD; DIED OF A CAT, MAY, 1878 by SIDNEY LANIER |