Thus do we nourish in our breasts the sting Of joys that are too exquisite to last, We fain would keep the heart a-sorrowing And wistfully bemoan the sunlit past, Regardless that the hours are fleeting fast. While this To-day, in which we fume and fret, To-morrow will be part of our regret! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO THE RETURNED GIRLS by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE IMPORTANCE OF GREEN by JAMES GALVIN SUGGESTED BY THE COVER OF A VOLUME OF KEATS'S POEMS by AMY LOWELL SURFACES AND MASKS; 12 by CLARENCE MAJOR TO A MAN WORKING HIS WAY THROUGH THE CROWD by MARIANNE MOORE |