A new World calls, in voices loud and strange, But what they mean or say no man can prove; Like cats at night, we do not know their game, Whether they scream for murder or for love. They come along with many a blinded rush, And have no sense in sight, or force of will; Like drunken men, impelled to walk or run, Because they have no power to stand up still. Beauty and Music lie beyond their thoughts, And what they say or mean, no man can know; They give us warts in place of Beauty's moles— And Music that was once an Irish row. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SATIRES OF CIRCUMSTANCE: 3. BY HER AUNT'S GRAVE by THOMAS HARDY TO A LILY by JAMES MATHEWES LEGARE LEXINGTON; 1775 by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER THE STEAM-ENGINE: CANTO 10. THE RAILWAY BOOM, 1845 by T. BAKER THE HWOMESTEAD by WILLIAM BARNES THE WILD DOVES by GEORGES BOUTELLEAU |