I CHAFE at darkness in the night, But when 'tis light, Hope shuts her eyes; the clouds are pale; The fields stretch cold into a distance hard: I wish again to draw the veil Thousand-starred. Am I of them whose blooms are shed, Whose fruits are spent, Who from dead eyes see Life half dead; -- Because desire is feeble discontent? Ah, no! desire and hope should die, Thus were I. But in me something clipped of wing Within its ring Frets; for I have lost what made The dawn-breeze magic, and the twilight beam A hand with tidings o'er the glade Waving seem. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OLD OSAWATOMIE by CARL SANDBURG DESERT FLOWERS by KEITH CASTELLAINE DOUGLAS GEORGE WASHINGTON by JOHN HALL INGHAM PHILOSOPHIES by MADELEINE AARON SEVEN SAD SONNETS: 7. THEY MEET AGAIN by MARY REYNOLDS ALDIS TEN YEARS AFTER by JOSEPH AUSLANDER |