WHAT is time, O glorious Giver, With its restlessness and might, But a lost and wandering river Working back into the light? Every gloomy rock that troubles Its smooth passage, strikes to life Beautiful and joyous bubbles That are only born through strife. Overhung with mist-like shadows, Stretch its shores away, away, To the long, delightful meadows Shining with immortal May: Where its moaning reaches never, Passion, pain, or fear to move, And the changes bring us ever Sabbaths and new moons of love. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FUN HOUSE FABLE by KAREN SWENSON LOVERS' INFINITENESS by JOHN DONNE EXCELLENCY OF CHRIST by GILES FLETCHER THE YOUNGER THE VOICE by WILFRID WILSON GIBSON LEARNING TO READ by FRANCES ELLEN WATKINS HARPER MARIPOSA by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY AVE MARIA IN ROME by MATHILDE BLIND THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 103. WRITTEN AT FLORENCE: 1 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |