ALAS, how bitter are the wrongs of love! Life has no other sorrow so acute: For love is made of every fine emotion, Of generous impulses, and noble thoughts; It looketh to the stars, and dreams of Heaven; It nestles 'mid the flowers, and sweetens earth. Love is aspiring, yet is humble, too: It doth exalt another o'er itself, With sweet heart-homage, which delights to raise That which it worships; yet is fain to win The idol to its lone and lowly home Of deep affection. 'Tis an utter wreck When such hopes perish. From that moment, life Has in its depths a well of bitterness, For which there is no healing. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EFFIGY OF A NUN (SIXTEENTH CENTURY) by SARA TEASDALE I DID THIS FOR THEE! WHAT HAST THOU DONE FOR ME? by FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL THE SINGERS OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) NOVEMB. 5. 1644 by JOSEPH BEAUMONT |