O days and hours, your work is this, To hold me from my proper place, A little while from his embrace, For fuller gain of after bliss: That out of distance might ensue Desire of nearness doubly sweet; And unto meeting when we meet, Delight a hundred-fold accrue. For every grain of sand that runs, And every span of shade that steals, And every kiss of toothed wheels, And all the courses of the suns. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TOMMY'S DEAD by SYDNEY THOMPSON DOBELL ZION, OR THE CITY OF GOD by JOHN NEWTON MAIDEN MELANCHOLY by RAINER MARIA RILKE ON NANUS COUNTED ON AN ANT by DECIMUS MAGNUS AUSONIUS THE SPAN OF LIFE by LEVI BISHOP TO W.A. AND H.H. ON THEIR DEPARTURE TO EUROPE by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE |