Throughout the echoing chambers of my brain I hear your words in mournful cadence toll Like some slow passing-bell which warns the soul Of sundering darkness. Unrelenting, fain To batter down resistance, fall again Stroke after stroke, insistent diastole, The bitter blows of truth, until the whole Is hammered into fact made strangely plain. Where shall I look for comfort? Not to you. Our worlds are drawn apart, our spirit's suns Divided, and the light of mine burnt dim. Now in the haunted twilight I must do Your will. I grasp the cup which over-runs, And with my trembling lips I touch the rim. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MORNING-GLORY by MARIA WHITE LOWELL ON THE DEATH OF A CAT by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI GOD SAVE THE NATION! by THEODORE TILTON THE PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION; A POEM. ENLARGED VERSION: BOOK 2 by MARK AKENSIDE OH, MOTHER DEAR! by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS A NEW PILGRIMAGE: 33 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |