How many a throb of the young poet-heart, Aspiring to the ideal bliss of fame, Deems that time soon may sanctify his claim Among the sons of song to dwell apart. -- Time passes -- passes! The aspiring flame Of hope shrinks down; the white flower poesy Breaks on its stalk, and from its earth-turned eye Drop sleepy tears instead of that sweet dew Rich with inspiring odors, insect wings Drew from its leaves with every changing sky, While its young innocent petals unsunned grew. No more in pride to other ears he sings, But with a dying charm himself unto: -- For a sad season: then, to active life he springs. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LIVING STARS by GEORGE SANTAYANA AFTER PARTING by SARA TEASDALE RHYME FOR A CHILD VIEWING A NAKED VENUS IN A PAINTING by ROBERT BROWNING ODE ON THE SPRING by THOMAS GRAY THE UNFORGIVEN by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |