These quiet ways I will not tolerate, Lulling my senses to forgetfulness; Passion and feeling growing less and less, Till at the end, immobile, insensate, Meekly submitting to the turns of fate My spirit shrink from every strain and stress Into negation, into nothingness, Too late to love, too lethargic to hate. Still in my veins the stream of life runs red; Waters of Lethe give to other lips; Let me but weave a gold and purple thread Into life's pattern, before Atropis clips Short at the end, the tapestry complete, -- Let me go down in action, not retreat. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FALCONER OF GOD by WILLIAM ROSE BENET ASOLANDO: SUMMUM BONUM by ROBERT BROWNING THE HEATHEN PASS-EE by ARTHUR CLEMENT HILTON SONNET: 'EVEN THIS WILL PASS AWAY' by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH TITA'S TEARS; A FANTASY by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE LITTLE PLANT by KATE LOUISE BROWN |