I hear a Voice no other man can hear, Blown o'er these thrice three-hundred leagues of land: Its import what the common stander-near Would ridicule if he could understand; For, from the prudent present world withdrawn, Self-tranced, I hearken that which bids me flee The stubborn heartless fact, insist upon The Beauty of wild Impossibility! I haunt a Past where I no more have part, Am faithful to a visionary thing,— The Saint is gone, but still the tapers shine!— Kneel to a hopeless Hope,—I cannot cling To holier altar than Her heavenly heart, Nor spill devotion at a fairer shrine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ALMANZOR & ALMAHIDE, OR THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA: PART 2. EPILOGUE by JOHN DRYDEN CUMNOR HALL by WILLIAM JULIUS MICKLE THE STENOGRAPHERS by PATRICIA KATHLEEN PAGE A BALLADE OF LAWN TENNIS by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS AN EVENING PRAYER by C. MAUDE BATTERSBY THE VIAL by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE |