If I were blind, Nor never knew the sweet green glory of the Spring, Still could I hear at dawn the lark, Thrush song at dusk, and stir of wing: Ah, who could be disconsolate When left so many a lovely thing! If I were dumb, And on mine ear fell lovéd melodies in vain, Could I not see the splendid sun And taste the cool of summer rain: And in my heart be memories That silence stirs to song again! If I were dead, Then what were left? Would you not coming o'er me weep; And kneeling by my narrow bed, All night a wide-eyed silence keep: — What then could man ask more of God Than this — your love and sleep? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FROM THE SHORE by CARL SANDBURG PHYLLIDA AND CORYDON by NICHOLAS BRETON THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 78. BODY'S BEAUTY by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 130 by ALFRED TENNYSON THE WINDOW; OR, THE SONG OF THE WRENS: THE LETTER by ALFRED TENNYSON LUCY (4) by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH |