THE Paradise of man has varied in its claims From past to future, and when legend turned the past And its splendid vision into ashes and illusion, We asked of God that, in his grace, we might enjoy, In yellow meads of asphodel, exempt from toil, The princely boon of everlasting rest and peace. But we forget the unity of nature and her aims, In making work and labor hard the means of growth. The revelation of the scenes behind the veil, And their identity with mortal life and pain, Dissolves the dreams of golden ages after death, Exhibiting the sterner ways of Providence. For God still hides behind the mask of nature there And all his gilded promises of light and joy Still ask for unremitting toil, would we secure The meed of progress and her happy treasures, And pain, with all its brood of bitter tears and grief Still lingers far beyond the shadows of the grave. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DON JUAN: CANTO 1 by GEORGE GORDON BYRON IN A LIBRARY by EMILY DICKINSON THE INDIAN WEED by RALPH ERSKINE TO THE RIVER by EDGAR ALLAN POE THE KLONDIKE by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON A RONDEL OF LUVE [LOVE] by ALEXANDER SCOTT (1520-1590) |