IF the despair that you and I have known Were accurately apportioned, each to each, Not every pebble on a shingly beach Not every grain of wheat for harvest sown Mustered and piled, would bear comparison With your despair; for your despair would reach The stars: the volume of your griefs would teach Astronomers a new dimension. But mine, I think, would be a small despair That I could carry with me, portable; A caked cold cinder from the fires of hell A souvenir, a trophy. I would wear It carelessly, and sometimes I would tell Its story, all save this: who found it there. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EDEN BOWER by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE BLIND MEN AND THE ELEPHANT by JOHN GODFREY SAXE MORNING MIST by MABEL WARREN ARNOLD LOVE'S WORD by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE RYE BREAD by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE THE INVENTORY, IN ANSWER TO ... SURVEYOR OF TXAES by ROBERT BURNS |