O FLY, my Soul! What hangs upon Thy drooping wings, And weighs them down With love of gaudy mortal things? The Sun is now i' the east: each shade As he doth rise Is shorter made, That earth may lessen to our eyes. O be not careless then and play Until the Star of Peace Hide all his beams in dark recess! Poor pilgrims needs must lose their way, When all the shadows do increase. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE POET SPEAKS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE BURIAL OF BOSTON CORBETT (ONE WARDEN TO ANOTHER) by EDGAR LEE MASTERS IVAN THE CZAR by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS KATIE LEE AND WILLIE GREY by JOSIE R. HUNT THE ONE GRAY HAIR by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR CRADLE SONG AT TWILIGHT by ALICE MEYNELL UNDERWOODS: BOOK 1: 22. THE CELESTIAL SURGEON by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON |