The golden demon stept into my room, And said: "Without me would be helpless gloom. Thou knowest ease and lust and pain and tears: Without me like mechanical cogs thy years Would pass until the wheel, thy soul, had done Its futile grinding-out beneath the sun. Life would be but a tale of figures cast For adding, washed away before the last Meaningless integer were set unto What went before, and thou couldst laugh anew, Or ask, 'What did my toil accomplish here? Nothing is added to my hope and fear.' Next, without me no gleam of love or hope Before thy eyes could glimmer while didst grope About in life; a thing and not a man Soullessly patient, wouldst thou fill thy span With toil and sleep and food, unchanging three! And all thy life would but a habit be. Last, without me no thought could ever creep Behind thy brow, to make it dream to leap Through dreams of fame and power under the sun: Save by my aid, genius is never won. I know I am all-hateful in thy sight: Remember, without me thou couldst not write!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LITTLE MILLINER by ROBERT WILLIAMS BUCHANAN THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 57. TRUE WOMAN, HER LOVE by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE WALKER OF THE SNOW by CHARLES DAWSON SHANLY ADDRESS TO THE MUMMY AT BELZONI'S EXHIBITION by HORACE SMITH A STIRRUP-CUP by DOUGLAS AINSLIE AUTUMN MESSAGES by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) ON A FAN by MATILDA BARBARA BETHAM-EDWARDS |