THE gods are deaf. Heaven sees us not; But our souls immortal be, Earth gapes: ah! whither do they flee? Is further grief to be their lot? Yes! love is sweet, but soon doth cease; Vows fleeting are as wind that blows; False is the heart and weary grows. The moss rests on the tomb in peace-- Life short; each day seems lingering; Our spirits, whither do they tend? Alas! their woes shall never end, Nor grave nor bullet solace bring. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RECOLLECTIONS OF LOVE by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE IN A LIBRARY by EMILY DICKINSON LESSER EPISTLES: TO A YOUNG LADY WITH SOME LAMPREYS by JOHN GAY A TERNARIE OF LITTLES, UPON A PIPKIN OF JELLIE by ROBERT HERRICK A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 18 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN IN HONOR OF TAFFY TOPAZ by CHRISTOPHER DARLINGTON MORLEY KEEPERS OF THE SUN by DOROTHY P. ALBAUGH |