He writes in characters too grand For our short sight to understand; We catch but broken strokes, and try To fathom all the mystery Of withered hopes, of death, of life, The endless war, the useless strife, -- But there, with larger, clearer sight, We shall see this -- His way was right. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPISTLE TO JOHN LAPRAIK, AN OLD SCOTTISH BARD by ROBERT BURNS CATAWBA WINE by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW KILLED AT THE FORD by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW HASSAN'S MUSIC by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH DECEMBER by ELIZABETH V. AUVACHE DIDO TO AENEAS by JOACHIM DU BELLAY |