Poor, impious Soul! that fixes its high hopes In the dim distance, on a throne of clouds, And from the morning's mist would make the ropes To draw it up amid acclaim of crowds -- Beware! That soaring path is lined with shrouds; And he who braves it, though of sturdy breath, May meet, half way, the avalanche and death! O poor young Soul! -- whose year-devouring glance Fixes in ecstasy upon a star, Whose feverish brilliance looks a part of earth, Yet quivers where the feet of angels are, And seems the future crown in realms afar -- Beware! A spark thou art, and dost but see Thine own reflection in Eternity! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SORROWS OF WERTHER by WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY TO A HUMMING BIRD by GLADYS ARNE ON THE DEATH OF CYNTHIA'S HORSE by PHILIP AYRES MANDRAKE'S SONG; FRAGMENT by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES ENVOI by CHARLES WILLIAM BRODRIBB PETRUCHIO'S WIFE by AMELIA JOSEPHINE BURR THE BELOVED STRANGER, SELECTIONS by WITTER BYNNER TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 4. INDIA, THE WISDOM-LAND by EDWARD CARPENTER |