Dewdrops are the gems of the morning, But the tears of mournful eve: Where no hope is, life's a warning That only serves to make us grave In our old age, Whose bruised wings quarrel with the bars of the still narrowing cage -- That only serves to make us grieve With oft and tedious taking-leave, Like a poor nigh-related guest, Who may not rudely be dismissed; Yet hath outstayed his welcome while, And tells the jest without the smile. O! might life cease! and selfless mind, Whose total @3being@1 is @3act,@1 alone remain behind! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN QUEST by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON FLUTE-PRIEST SONG FOR RAIN; CEREMONIAL AT THE SUN SPRING by AMY LOWELL SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: TOM MERRITT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS TUOL SLENG: POL POT'S PRISON by KAREN SWENSON THE CARPENTER'S SON by SARA TEASDALE THE BALLAD OF WILLIAM SYCAMORE (1790-1880) by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET |