I cannot think of Paradise a place Where men go idly to and fro, With harps of gold and robes that shame the snow; With great wide wings that brightly interlace Whene'er they sing before the Master's face— Within a realm where neither pain nor woe, Nor care is found; where tempests never blow; Where souls with hopes and dreams may run no race. Such paradise were but a hell to me; Devoid of all progression, I should rot, Or shout for revolution, wide and far. Better some simple task, a spirit free To act along the line of self forgot— Or help God make a blossom or a star. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: ELMER BARR by EDGAR LEE MASTERS DISDAIN RETURNED by THOMAS CAREW THE KINGFISHER by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES SONG FOR JULY 12TH, 1843 by JOHN DE JEAN FRAZER THE TRIUMPHS OF OWEN: A FRAGMENT by THOMAS GRAY TO THE LADYBIRD by MOTHER GOOSE TO THE DAISY (3) by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 46. AL-WASI'H by EDWIN ARNOLD INVITES POETS AND HISTORIANS TO WRITE IN CYNTHIA'S PRAISE by PHILIP AYRES |