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...A FIT OF RHYME AGAINST RHYME [OR, RIME] by BEN JONSON THE LAMENTATION OF GLUMDALCLITCH FOR THE LOSS OF GRILDRIG by ALEXANDER POPE A FRAGMENT OF AN EPIC POEM, OCCASIONED BY THE LOSS OF A GAME by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD IMPULSIVE DIALOGUE by MAXWELL BODENHEIM THE SURPRISE by GAMALIEL BRADFORD OBSERVATIONS IN THE ART OF ENGLISH POESY: 19. ELEGIAC VERSE: THE SECOND EPIGRAM by THOMAS CAMPION |