WHEREFORE to-night so full of care, My soul, revolving hopeless strife, Pointing at hindrance, and the bare Painful escapes of fitful life? Shaping the doom that may befall By precedent of terror past: By love dishonoured, and the call Of friendship slighted at the last? By treasured names, the little store That memory out of wreck could save Of loving hearts, that gone before Call their old comrade to the grave? O soul be patient: thou shalt find A little matter mend all this; Some strain of music to thy mind, Some praise for skill not spent amiss. Again shall pleasure overflow Thy cup with sweetness, thou shalt taste Nothing but sweetness, and shalt grow Half sad for sweetness run to waste. O happy life! I hear thee sing, O rare delight of mortal stuff! I praise my days for all they bring, Yet are they only not enough. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ODE TO SPRING by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD SONG OF KAREN, THE DANCING CHILD by KATHERINE MANSFIELD A POST-IMPRESSIONIST SUSURRATION FOR THE FIRST OF NOVEMBER by HAYDEN CARRUTH ABANDONED RANCH, BIG BEND by HAYDEN CARRUTH CONTRA MORTEM: THE BEING AS VISION by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE WAR THAT ISN'T WHAT YOU THINK by JAMES GALVIN NOT OUR GOOD LUCK by ROBINSON JEFFERS |