IT is most true -- and most untrue! Though all should die of Me and You And all of later men who press This weary ball, 'tis like, no less, That our stray thistle-down of thought Claimed of some winnowing breeze, and brought To some safe seeding-place, may lie Securely there, and fructify; And -- in a world still out of joint -- May serve some bard for starting-point Of some yet larger utterance whence New bards shall borrow, aeons hence. What skills it then, though We be done: Our thought is living -- and lives on! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE INEVITABLE by SARAH KNOWLES BOLTON ON A MAGAZINE SONNET by RUSSELL HILLARD LOINES THE SECRETARY; WRITTEN AT THE HAGUE, 1696 by MATTHEW PRIOR ON THE PROJECTED KENDAL AND WINDERMERE RAILWAY by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH TO HIS HEART, BIDDING IT HAVE NO FEAR by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE CASE OF DOMINEERING JOHN ALEXIS UPHAM by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS |