BLAME us not, ah, blame us not, ye folk who love the sun, Whose longings haunt the fields at noon, the ingleside at night; For we are of another blood and feel our pulses run As run the tides to meet the moon and leap beneath her light. WE sit beside your hearth-stones with our faces to the fire, But our hearts within are straitened -- (do ye ever understand?) For we long to turn away -- yet dare not yield to the desire -- Where the moonlight at the window beckons, beckons like a hand. THE household phrases come to us as in a tongue unknown. We gaze at you unseeing, for our thoughts are far away Like scattered flakes of star-dust on the flying cloud-rack blown Beyond the placid vision of the children of the day. BLAME us not, ye quiet ones who crouch beside the flame And rule it as ye rule your souls, with measured, tranquil hand. Nay, but my words are idle. Give us neither praise nor blame, Only be blind forever, since ye cannot understand. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THIRD BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 7. OF PLEASURE AND PAIN by THOMAS CAMPION THE RETIREMENT; TO MR. IZAAK WALTON by CHARLES COTTON THE BATTLEFIELD by EMILY DICKINSON EPIGRAM: HERO AND LEANDER by JOHN DONNE EXCELLENCY OF CHRIST by GILES FLETCHER THE YOUNGER SONGS OF TRAVEL: 44 by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON |