No doubt this active will, So bravely steeped in sun, This will has vanquished Death And foiled oblivion. But this indifferent clay, This fine experienced hand, So quiet, and these thoughts That all unfinished stand, Feel death as though it were A shadowy caress; And win and wear a frail Archaic wistfulness. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WANDERINGS OF OISIN by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS IN A GONDOLA by ROBERT BROWNING THE OTHER SIDE OF A MIRROR by MARY ELIZABETH COLERIDGE YOUR HANDS by ANGELINA WELD GRIMKE TO THE RIVER CHARLES by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW UNTO US A SON IS GIVEN by ALICE MEYNELL |