The prosperous and beautiful To me seem not to wear The yoke of conscience masterful, Which galls me everywhere. I cannot shake off the god; On my neck he makes his seat; I look at my face in the glass, -- My eyes his eyeballs meet. Enchanters! enchantresses! Your gold makes you seem wise; The morning mist within your grounds More proudly rolls, more softly lies. Yet spake yon purple mountain, Yet said yon ancient wood, That Night or Day, that Love or Crime, Leads all souls to the Good. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CELSUS AT HADRIAN'S VILLA by EDGAR LEE MASTERS ON THE WAY (PHILADELPHIA, 1794) by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE BRIDGE: 7. THE TUNNEL by HAROLD HART CRANE UPON HIS DEPARTURE HENCE by ROBERT HERRICK AT A VACATION EXERCISE IN THE COLLEGE by JOHN MILTON SONNET: 146 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE |