THESE are my scales to weigh reality, -- A dream, a chord, a longing, love of Thee. Real as the violets of April days, Or those soft-hid in unfrequented ways; Real as the noiseless tune to which we tread The measure we by life's old song are led; Real as man's wonder what his soul may be,-- A guest for time or for eternity. Real as the ocean, seen, alas! no more, Whose tide still beats along my heart's inshore. These are my scales to weigh reality, -- A chord, a dream, a longing, love of Thee ! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DEATH OF THE HIRED MAN by ROBERT FROST AT CASTERBRIDGE FAIR: 6. A WIFE WAITS by THOMAS HARDY |