Yet from indifference may we hope for peace, Or in inaction lose the sense of pain? Joyless I stand, with vacant heart and brain, And scarce would turn the hand to be or cease. No onward purpose in my life seems plain: Today may end it, or tomorrow will; Life still to be preserved, though worthless still, A tear-dimmed face, glassed in a gilded locket. But conscience, starting with a reddening cheek, Loud on the ear her homely message sends, "Ere the sun plunge, determine, up! awake! And for thy sordid being make amends; Truth is not found by feeling in the pocket, Nor wisdom sucked from out the fingers' ends!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GHOST-BEREFT; A SCENE FROM BOGLAND IN WAR-TIME by JANE BARLOW CHRISTMAS EVE by MATHILDE BLIND THE NIGHT JOURNEY by RUPERT BROOKE HASTINGS' SONNETS: 8 by SAMUEL EGERTON BRYDGES THE BACKGROUND GROUP by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON TALES OF THE HALL: BOOK 2. THE BROTHERS by GEORGE CRABBE |