When we consider what this life we lead Is not, and is: how full of toil and pain, How blank of rest and of substantial gain, Beset by hunger earth can never feed, And propping half our hearts upon a reed; We cease to mourn lost treasures, mourned in vain, Lost treasures we are fain and yet not fain To fetch back for a solace of our need. For who that feel this burden and this strain, This wide vacuity of hope and heart, Would bring their cherished well-beloved again: To bleed with them and wince beneath the smart, To have with stinted bliss such lavish bane, To hold in lieu of all so poor a part? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MIDNIGHT ON THE GREAT WESTERN by THOMAS HARDY RETURNED FROM THE WAR by HENRY ABBEY TWO GRANDMOTHERS by IRENE ARCHER LILIES: 28. NOW by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) TWELVE SONNETS: 12. AFTER BATTLE by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) HYMN FOR THE SLAIN IN BATTLE by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE |