GOD said: "I will make a poet," And a soul was sent below With the singer's wings of rapture, With the sufferer's weight of woe. God laid on the eyes the poet's Awful gift of second sight, On the restless, questioning spirit, All the blackness of the night. On the body, pangs of torture, Hell's own pains and love's sharp sting; Doubt you woe must dow'r the poet? Hush, draw close and hear him sing! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GRANDFATHER'S LOVE by SARA TEASDALE THE BELLS OF SHANDON by FRANCIS SYLVESTER MAHONY THE HIGHER GOOD by THEODORE PARKER THE SUPPLIANTS: THE WORLD'S HARMONIOUS PLAN by AESCHYLUS PICTURES OF MOTHER by STELLA PFEIFFER BAISCH THE SERVANT by JOSEPH BEAUMONT LOVE'S WORD by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 8 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |