Like a white stone deep in a draw-well lying, As hard and clear, a memory lies in me. I cannot strive nor have I heart for striving: It is such pain and yet such ecstasy. It seems to me that someone looking closely Into my eyes would see it, patent, pale. And, seeing, would grow sadder and more thoughtful Than one who listens to a bitter tale. The ancient gods changed men to things, but left them A consciousness that smoldered endlessly, That splendid sorrows might endure forever. And you are changed into a memory. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...1914: 4. THE DEAD by RUPERT BROOKE THE GHOSTS OF THE BUFFALOES by NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY THE STRANGER by LAWRENCE ALMA-TADEMA THE STATION MAN, ON LOOK-OUT by ARCHIE BINNS UNDER A THOUSAND WORDS by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN A NEW PILGRIMAGE: 9 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT EPIGRAM by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |