Surely there is an aching void within Man's spirit unto other men unknown And which were it unveiled and freely shown Would open to the site of so much of sin And folly & a cry of a din His overbearing pride & overblown Would quite shrink down & seem as if it had grown Humble, content to lose & not to win. Oh that we could so hide gthe grief of years From our own selves yea the whole guilt & trouble And in our secret spirit look on grace; Yet death for ever sendeth messengers Before it conscience pricks, & were these double They were not equal to our sin-stained face. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO MY HONOURED FRIEND DR. CHARLETON by JOHN DRYDEN THOUGHT OF A BRITON ON THE SUBJUGATION OF SWITZERLAND by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH ON SENDING MY SON AS A PRESENT TO DR. SWIFT by MARY BARBER MEARY WEDDED by WILLIAM BARNES THE LITTLE OLD WOMEN; TO VICTOR HUGO by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE THE WASHER WOMAN'S SONG by WILLIAM BLAKE THE ROCK OF LIBERTY; A PILGRIM ODE, 1629-1920: 1. VISION by ABBIE FARWELL BROWN ABER STATIONS: STATIO TERTIA by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN THE WANDERER: 6. PALINGENSIS: EUTHANASIA (WRITTEN AFTER LONG ILLNESS) by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |