And what brave life it was we lived that tide, Lived, or essayed to live—for who shall say Youth garners aught but its own dreams denied, Or handles what it hoped for yesterday? High prophets were we of the uncultured lay, Supremely scorning all that to our pride Seemed less than truth. Be truth the thing it may, Our Goddess she, deformed but deified. Prophets and poets of the Earth's last birth Revealed in ugliness, a blind despair, Only that we were young and of such worth As still can thrive upon life's leanest fare, And find in the world's turmoil its full quittance Of joy denied, however poor the pittance. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SURFACES AND MASKS; 7 by CLARENCE MAJOR THE OLD SQUIRE by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT HOME-THOUGHTS, FROM ABROAD by ROBERT BROWNING THANATOPSIS by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT EVENING (1) by EMILY DICKINSON SPRING SONG by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR TO HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW; ON HIS BIRTHDAY, 27 FEB. 1867 by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL |