Quicksand years that whirl me I know not whither, Your schemes, politics, fail, lines give way, substances mock and elude me, Only the theme I sing, the great and strong-possess'd soul, eludes not, One's-self must never give way -- that is the final substance -- that out of all is sure, Out of politics, triumphs, battles, life, what at last finally remains? When shows break up what but One's-Self is sure? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SONG OF HIAWATHA: PICTURE-WRITING by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW ALMS by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY THE ART OF PRESERVING HEALTH: BOOK 4. THE PASSIONS by JOHN ARMSTRONG SO I MAY FEEL THE HANDS OF GOD by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH A SOLILOQUY ON READING 'A DISPUTE ABOUT FAITH AND WORKS' by JOHN BYROM |