I for whom the world is a clear stream Of Beauty's holding, -- fashioned to reflect Her loveliness; a hollow cave perfect In echo, that her voice meet full esteem, Around me here are arching walls gold-decked, Of her grey children breathing forth their praise, I am an outcast, too strange to but raise One least harmonious whisper of respect. I am wild, uncouth; before the dream Thou givest me I stand weak in amaze, Or dare I lift one hand to serve, it lays All waste the very mesh I hold supreme. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WALL STREET PIT, MAY, 1901 by EDWIN MARKHAM THE WHITE WOMEN by MARY ELIZABETH COLERIDGE PIONEERS OF DETROIT by LEVI BISHOP LINES WRITTEN ON WINDOWS OF THE GLOBE INN, DUMFRIES by ROBERT BURNS |