I serve you not, if you I follow, Shadowlike, o'er hill and hollow; And bend my fancy to your leading, All too nimble for my treading. When the pilgrimage is done, And we've the landscape overrun, I am bitter, vacant, thwarted, And your heart is unsupported. Vainly valiant, you have missed The manhood that should yours resist, -- Its complement; but if I could, In severe or cordial mood, Lead you rightly to my altar, Where the wisest Muses falter, And worship that world-warming spark Which dazzles me in midnight dark, Equalizing small and large, While the soul it doth surcharge, That the poor is wealthy grown, And the hermit never alone, -- The traveller and the road seem one With the errand to be done, -- That were a man's and lover's part, That were Freedom's whitest chart. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ITALIAN PICTURES: JULY IN VALLOMBROSA by MINA LOY THE INDIAN BURYING GROUND by PHILIP FRENEAU THE BRIDE AND GROOM by WILLIAM EDWARD ADAMS A MAY NIGHT by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS THE WRESTLERS by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |