AS sun is to a mist-filled valley, rain To the dead earth, wind to the swallow's flight, Shadows to weary eyes, music without pain, And after noise, the dim, peace-breathing night: All these I thought my love to you could be, To ease some measure of the silent grief That, yearning in your brave eyes ceaselessly, In neither speech nor tears can find relief. But what are all my prayers and vain endeavor? Your sorrow stretches like an aching sea, Into which love of mine could pour forever And change it not until eternity. So, helpless, dumb with helplessness, I stand Close by you, and can only touch your hand. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AUNTIE'S SKIRTS by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON A SUMMER IN TUSCANY by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT OBSERVATIONS IN THE ART OF ENGLISH POESY: 18. ELEGIAC VERSE: THE FIRST EPIGRAM by THOMAS CAMPION QUI LABORAT, ORAT. by ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH BENEDICTIO DOMINI by ERNEST CHRISTOPHER DOWSON BALLADS OF THE NIGHT: THE RESPONSES OF DAWN AND NIGHT by PAUL FORT |