How shall the golden day discreetly pass? Take shoe and staff, and mount the windy hill, And see if 'twixt high heaven and the grass One cloud, one leaf, make any motion ill. What shall the text and homiletics be? The kindly sun, who would not fade too soon; These twain, the well-perfected you and me; This flame, that pulses hotter than his June. Grieve not too much, if afterward of burning He sinks so ashily! There is an art, To grudge not greedily; take hands and turning Go speaking not; this is the happy heart. Sun after sun is yet to paint the skies. Dark spaces intervene, but new suns rise. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...YOUTH PENETRANT by CONRAD AIKEN A WINTER'S NIGHT by ROBERT FROST |