There are grey hours when I drink of indifference; all things fade Into the grey of a twilight that covers my soul with its sky; Scarcely I know that this shade is the world, or this burden is I; And life, and art, and love, and death, are the shades of a shade. Then, in those hours, I hear old voices murmur aloud, And memory tires of the hopelessly hoping desire, her regret I hear the remembering voices, and I forget to forget; The world as a cloud drifts by, or I drift by as a cloud. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPRING BLIZZARD by JAMES GALVIN TO WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS ON TAGORE by MARIANNE MOORE THE WIND AT THE DOOR by WILLIAM BARNES HIS PRAYER TO BEN JONSON by ROBERT HERRICK THOSE WHO LOVE by SARA TEASDALE CROSSING THE BAR by ALFRED TENNYSON |