The people take the thing of course, They marvel not to see This strange, unnatural divorce Betwixt delight and me. I KNOW the face of sorrow, and I know Her voice with all its varied cadences ; Which way she turns and treads ; how at her ease Things fit her dreary largess to bestow. Where sorrow long abides, some be that grow To hold her dear, but I am not of these ; Joy is my friend, not sorrow ; by strange seas, In some far land we wandered, long ago. O faith, long tried, that knows no faltering ! O vanished treasure of her hands and face ! -- Beloved -- to whose memory I cling, Unmoved within my heart she holds her place. And never shall I hail that other "friend," Who yet shall dog my footsteps to the end. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE HUNTING OF THE SNARK: FIT 3. THE BAKER'S TALE by CHARLES LUTWIDGE DODGSON EPITAPH (ON A COMMONPLACE PERSON WHO DIED IN BED) by AMY LEVY RIDDLE: A STAR by MOTHER GOOSE SONNET: 57 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE AMORETTI: 75 by EDMUND SPENSER DANSE RUSSE by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS AH, HAD I SEEN THEE SOONER! by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS HAYMAKERS' SONG, FR. KING RENE'S HONEYMOON by GORDON BOTTOMLEY |