There is an isle beyond our ken, Haunted by Dreams of weary men. Grey Hopes enshadow it with wings Weary with burdens of old things: There the insatiate water-springs Rise with the tears of all who weep: And deep within it, deep, oh deep The furtive voice of Sorrow sings. There evermore, Till Time be o'er, Sad, oh so sad, the Dreams of men Drift through the isle beyond our ken. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LOVE POEM by KAREN SWENSON AN HORATIAN ODE UPON CROMWELL'S RETURN FROM IRELAND by ANDREW MARVELL GROWN-UP by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY VILLANELLE, WITH STEVENSON'S ASSISTANCE by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE ELF CHILD by GEORGE LAWRENCE ANDREWS OUR HERITAGE by ISIDORE G. ASCHER |