As in the midst of battle there is room For thoughts of love, and in foul sin for mirth; As gossips whisper of a trinket's worth Spied by the death-bed's flickering candle-gloom; As in the crevices of Caesar's tomb The sweet herbs flourish on a little earth: So in this great disaster of our birth We can be happy, and forget our doom. For morning, with a ray of tenderest joy Gilding the iron heaven, hides the truth, And evening gently woos us to employ Our grief in idle catches. Such is youth; Till from that summer's trance we wake, to find Despair before us, vanity behind. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...JULY IN GEORGY by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON SAINT PATRICK by EDWIN MARKHAM A SOLDIER LISTENS by JEAN STARR UNTERMEYER THRENODY FOR A BROWN GIRL by COUNTEE CULLEN LAUGHING SONG, FR. SONGS OF INNOCENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE SAILING BEYOND SEAS (OLD STYLE) by JEAN INGELOW FOOTSTEPS OF ANGELS by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW |