What treasure would we not have poured At the white feet, when love had power If beauty that we had adored Were tender to us for an hour. I pass these burning memories. I Run on to find a child who lay On the warm earth, made tender by A love breathed up from the dark clay. How can I win that love again? All I could bring to earth it owns, What sacrifice must be, what pain To be in league with these gray stones! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AN ESSAY ON MAN by ALEXANDER POPE A WOMAN'S ANSWER by ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER FOR 'THE WINE OF CIRCE' (BY EDWARD BURNE JONES) by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI ON IMAGINATION by PHILLIS WHEATLEY MY HAPPINESS by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS THE TWO FIRES by JOSEPH BEAUMONT THE LAST MAN: ANTICIPATION OF EVIL TIDINGS by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES |