I will not shut me from my kind, And, lest I stiffen into stone, I will not eat my heart alone, Nor feed with sighs a passing wind: What profit lies in barren faith, And vacant yearning, tho' with might To scale the heaven's highest height, Or dive below the wells of death? What find I in the highest place, But mine own phantom chanting hymns? And on the depths of death there swims The reflex of a human face. I'll rather take what fruit may be Of sorrow under human skies: 'T is held that sorrow makes us wise, Whatever wisdom sleep with thee. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RAND MCNALLY ATLAS by KAREN SWENSON TOMORROW by FELIX LOPE DE VEGA CARPIO THESMOPHORIAZUSAE: EURIPIDES by ARISTOPHANES LINES TO ROBERT ALDERSON UPON HIS DEPARTURE FROM WARRINGTON by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD EUTERPE by LUCIUS MORRIS BEEBE A POEM, DEDICATED TO WILLIAM LAW, PROFESSOR OF PHILOSOPHY by ROBERT BLAIR ENGLISH ENCOURAGEMENT OF ART (FIRST READING) by WILLIAM BLAKE |