Gold nights are these I spend With talk to my full soul's desire In winter with you, friend, Before the whispering pine-log fire, Drenched in the orange heat; Such words are only uttered when Youth's free heart flames more sweet Than it can ever burn again. . . . Such moments can be priced But in the coin of Ecstasy -- With which Plato and Christ Bought their souls ultimately free; Dear Lad, it is enough That we have lived and felt the touch Of friends, and known the stuff Of dreams: Death cannot rob us much. . . . | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PURSUIT OF THE WORD by ROBERT FROST APPELLATE JURISDICTION by MARIANNE MOORE A BALLAD OF WHITECHAPEL by ISAAC ROSENBERG TO A LADY WHO HAD OFFERED HIM A WREATH OF LAUREL by GEORGE SANTAYANA PROTESTS (AFTER A PAINTING BY HUGO BALLIN) by LOUIS UNTERMEYER BALLADE AGAINST THE ENEMIES OF FRANCE by FRANCOIS VILLON BLIZZARD by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THE WINDING BANKS OF ERNE; OR, THE EMIGRANT'S ADIEU TO HIS BIRTHPLACE by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM |