THEY lift upon the first rush of bright wings Into the heaven of singing; and they dare To glimpse unseen and utter tacit things, And with unstained hands from the temple tear The inmost veil to find if truth be there. They chant in darkness with unbated breath The age-old exorcisms of despair— How may we sing who once have walked with death? O Poet, Poet, lingering, lingering late To dream fulfilment of star-high desire, A little longer and in vain you wait The flush of mystery, the cloak of fire; Youth's songs have wings, but after-words shall be As gray leaves fallen to the wild white sea. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ESSAY: AT NIGHT THE AUTOPORTRAIT AT NIGHT by ELENI SIKELIANOS DEDICATIONS AND INSCRIPTIONS: 6. GRUACH by GORDON BOTTOMLEY BATTLE OF THE BALTIC by THOMAS CAMPBELL SOTTO VOCE; TO EDWARD THOMAS by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE WERE I BUT HIS OWN WIFE by ELLEN MARY PATRICK DOWNING THE CRICKET by FREDERICK GODDARD TUCKERMAN |