ONCE more the Morning mocks me with its scorn, The Sun derides me with its radiant face, Since you vouchsafe no word from your far place, And, lacking you, there is no joy of morn. Did you but speak, my heart would be new-born, And I -- alive again, through that dear grace Of love, that scoffs at time and conquers space -- Could laugh at those who call my fate forlorn. Why are you silent? Does your heart forget, In the proud affluence of joys untold, Old ways, old words that I remember yet And treasure, as a miser counts his gold? Is it that your far ear I cannot reach -- Or am I, earth-enslaved, deaf to Heaven's speech? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NIGHTMARE, FR. IOLANTHE by WILLIAM SCHWENCK GILBERT EPIGRAMS: BOOK I, 1 by MARCUS VALERIUS MARTIALIS A PUBLIC DANCE by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS SONNET FROM JAPAN: 1. THE SPELL by ADELAIDE NICHOLS BAKER SHADOWS ON THE WALL by ALEXANDER (ALEKSANDR) ALEXANDROVICH BLOK |