The course of my long life hath reached at last, In fragile bark o'er a tempestuous sea, The common harbor, where must rendered be Account of all the actions of the past. The impassioned phantasy, that, vague and vast, Made art an idol and a king to me, Was an illusion, and but vanity Were the desires that lured me and harassed. The dreams of love, that were so sweet of yore, What are they now, when two deaths may be mine,-- One sure, and one forecasting its alarms? Painting and sculpture satisfy no more The soul now turning to the Love Divine, That oped, to embrace us, on the cross its arms. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NORTH WIND TO DUTIFUL BEAST MIDWAY BETWEEN DIAL & FOOT OF GARDEN CLOCK by MARIANNE MOORE FREDERICKSBURG by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE ENGLISHMAN IN ITALY by ROBERT BROWNING CONSECRATION HYMN by FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL EPIGRAM ON QUEEN CAROLINE'S DEATHBED by ALEXANDER POPE VALENTINES TO MY MOTHER: 1883 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI |