Cousin, my thoughts no longer try To cast the fashion of the sky. Imagination can extend Scarcely in part to comprehend The sweetness of our common food Ambrosial, which ingratitude And impious inadvertence waste, Studious to eat but not to taste. And who can tell what's yet in store There, but that earthly things have more Of all that makes their inmost bliss, And life's an image still of this, But haply such a glorious one As is the rainbow of the sun? Sweet are your words, but, after all Their mere reversal may befall The partners of His glories who Daily is crucified anew: Splendid privations, martyrdoms To which no weak remission comes, Perpetual passion for the good Of them that feel no gratitude, Far circlings, as of planets' fires, Round never-to-be-reach'd desires, Whatever rapturously sighs That life is love, love sacrifice. All I am sure of heaven is this: Howe'er the mode, I shall not miss One true delight which I have known. Not on the changeful earth alone Shall loyalty remain unmoved T'wards everything I ever loved. So Heaven's voice calls, like Rachel's voice To Jacob in the field, 'Rejoice! 'Serve on some seven more sordid years, 'Too short for weariness or tears; 'Serve on; then, oh, Beloved, well-tried, 'Take me for ever as thy Bride!' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE COLD NIGHT by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS CINQUAIN: SUSANNA AND THE ELDERS by ADELAIDE CRAPSEY EARLY RISING by JOHN GODFREY SAXE THE DISCOVERY; SONNET by JOHN COLLINGS SQUIRE THE CLINGING VINE by ANTIPATER OF SIDON |