I can wade Grief - Whole Pools of it - I'm used to that - But the least push of Joy Breaks up my feet - And I tip - drunken - Let no Pebble - smile - 'Twas the New Liquor - That was all! Power is only Pain - Stranded, thro' Discipline, Till Weights - will hang - Give Balm - to Giants - And they'll wilt, like Men - Give Himmaleh - They'll Carry - Him! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PROMISE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE SHADED WATER by WILLIAM GILMORE SIMMS AT BETHLEHEM: 1. THE CHILD by JOHN BANISTER TABB FALLING STARS by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER ANTICIPATION by EMILY JANE BRONTE THE FISHERMAN'S CHANT by FRANCIS COWLEY BURNAND AS I CAME OVER THE GREY, GREY HILLS by JOSEPH CAMPBELL |