WE seek to know, and knowing seek; We seek, we know, and every sense Is trembling with the great Intense And vibrating to what we speak. We ask too much, we seek too oft, We know enough, and should no more; And yet we skim through Fancy's lore And look to earth and not aloft. A something comes from out the gloom; I know it not, nor seek to know; I only see it swell and grow, And more than this world would presume. Meseems, a circling void I fill, And I, unchanged where all is changed; It seems unreal; I own it strange, Yet nurse the thoughts I cannot kill. I hear the ocean's surging tide, Raise quiring on its carol-tune; I watch the golden-sickled moon, And clearer voices call beside. O Sea! whose ancient ripples lie On red-ribbed sands where seaweeds shone; O Moon! whose golden sickle's gone; O Voices all! like ye I die! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHEN LOVE GOES by SARA TEASDALE PRECIOUS WORDS by EMILY DICKINSON THE QUILTING by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE SPIDER AND THE FLY by MARY HOWITT THE LAST SUPPER by RAINER MARIA RILKE COLUMBUS [AUGUST 3, 1492] by JOHANN CHRISTOPH FRIEDRICH VON SCHILLER |