We seem to tread the self-same street, To pace the self-same courts or grass; Parting, our hands appear to meet: O vanitatum vanitas! Distant as earth from heaven or hell From thee the things to me most dear: Ghost-thronged Cocytus and thy will Between us rush. We might be near. Thy world is fair: my thoughts refuse To dance its dance or drink its wine; Nor canst thou hear the reeds and yews That sigh to me from lands not thine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SUNSET: ST. LOUIS by SARA TEASDALE VANQUISHED; ON THE DEATH OF GENERAL GRANT by FRANCIS FISHER BROWNE THE LATEST DECALOGUE by ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH ODE TO BEAUTY by RALPH WALDO EMERSON THE FISHER by JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE THE SEA GYPSY [OR GIPSY] by RICHARD HOVEY |