Out of this turmoil and passion, This implacable contest, This vast sea of effort, I would gather something of repose, Some intuition of the inalterable gods, Some Attic gesture. Each day I grow more restless, See the austere shape elude me, Gaze impotently upon a thousand miseries And still am dumb. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE CHILD by HAYDEN CARRUTH GREEN MOUNTAIN IDYL by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE WOMEN WITH FABLED HAIR by MADELINE DEFREES AFTERGLOW by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TUNICA PALLIO PROPRIOR by MARIANNE MOORE A LETTER ON THE USE OF MACHINE GUNS AT WEDDINGS by KENNETH PATCHEN |