How pure at heart and sound in head, With what divine affections bold, Should be the man whose thought would hold An hour's communion with the dead. In vain shalt thou, or any, call The spirits from their golden day, Except, like them, thou too canst say, My spirit is at peace with all. They haunt the silence of the breast, Imagination calm and fair, The memory like a cloudless air, The conscience as a sea at rest: But when the heart is full of din, And doubt beside the portals waits, They can but listen at the gates, And hear the household jar within. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MERSA by KEITH CASTELLAINE DOUGLAS JIM BLUDSO [OF THE PRAIRIE BELLE] by JOHN MILTON HAY CEREMONIES FOR CHRISTMAS (1) by ROBERT HERRICK THE DEFENSE OF THE ALAMO [MARCH 6, 1835] by CINCINNATUS HEINE MILLER ITALIA, IO TI SALUTO!' by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI ROUTE MARCH by CHARLES HAMILTON SORLEY UNDERWOODS: BOOK 2: 16. THE DEAREST FRIENDS ARE THE AULDEST FRIENDS by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON |