THERE is no reason we should write, Or read, or speak, or sing, to-night; Profusely starred the sky awaits us, Our souls may thitherward take their flight. No one alone, nor three, nor four, Nor any counted number more, Can make of thought such rapt keen joyance As thrills two voyaging towards no shore. Twin spirits cleave the vast of air Best if their bodies do not stir: Come, breast the stillness, and on and ever Dip at a moment and rise a pair! Birds, cleaving either night or day, Flit one before, one after; they Straggle, form clots or clouds, but never Keep pace when flying; be that our way. Though toil and zeal be often crossed, No tick of time enjoyed is lost; One hour replete with satisfaction Old kings would prize at a great war's cost. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A COLONIAL MORNING DREAM by KAREN SWENSON THE DRUM by JOHN SCOTT (1730-1783) COR CORDIUM by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE THE LIFE OF MAN by FRANCIS BACON SECTION GANG: NIGHT by NORMAN BOLKER THE OUTCAST MOTHER by EMILY JANE BRONTE |