They think I sit alone beside my fire -- The days of golden mornings all gone by, And amber dusks where quiet blossoms lie, The swift delights that spring and youth desire. They cannot know that vastness of empire, The pageantry of ages passing by, Its immemorial folk, their dreams, their cry, Their dignity of thought and high desire. For Homer's heroes pass, and Sappho sings, Great Shakspere's men and women live again, And Goethe broods, and Shelley's passion wings; Or Milton's loss is mine, and Dante's pain: That first Creator, from eternal night, Thought too of these, and said, "Let there be light." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HEGIRA by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO TWO UNKNOWN LADIES by AMY LOWELL YOU ARE FIRE EATERS by MARIANNE MOORE |