Still through the dusk of dead, blank-legended, And unremunerative years we search To get where life begins, and still we groan Because we do not find the living spark Where no spark ever was; and thus we die, Still searching, like poor old astronomers Who totter off to bed and go to sleep, To dream of untriangulated stars. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...QUIET WORK; SONNET by MATTHEW ARNOLD LAY OF THE TRILOBITE by MAY EMMA GOLDWORTH KENDALL A PSALM by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN UNCHANGING by FRIEDRICH MARTIN VON BODENSTEDT A VERMONT AUCTIONEER by DANIEL LEAVENS CADY THE GATE OF FAME by HENRY CHAPPELL THE BUNK-HOUSE ORCHESTRA by CHARLES BADGER CLARK JR. |