Poems
<< Prev Next >>It Must Have Been Joy (21)
We never joy enjoy to that full point/ Regret doth wish joy had enjoy�d been,/ Nor have the strength regret to disappoint/ Recalling not past joy's thought, but its mien./ Yet joy was joy when it enj...
I Look with Inner Eyes Afraid to Look (22)
Like a bad suitor desperate and trembling/ From the mixed sense of being not loved and loving,/ Who with feared longing half would know, dissembling/ With what he'd wish proved what he fears soon pro...
A Nightly Thought of Day (23)
We are born at sunset and we die ere morn,/ And the whole darkness of the world we know,/ How can we guess its truth, to darkness born,/ The obscure consequence of absent glow?/ Only the stars do tea...
This is the Poet's Soul (24)
When I should be asleep to mine own voice/ In telling thee how much thy love's my dream,/ I find me listening to myself, the noise/ Of my words othered in my hearing them./ Yet wonder not: this is th...
Upon the World Turn Round in Thought (25)
As the lone, frighted user of a night-road/ Suddenly turns round, nothing to detect,/ Yet on his fear's sense keepeth still the load/ Of that brink-nothing he doth but suspect;/ And the cold terror m...
Do Make it Better (26)
Like to a ship that storms urge on its course,/ By its own trials our soul is surer made./ The very things that make the voyage worse/ Do make it better; its peril is its aid./ And, as the storm driv...
I Talked My Heart Asleep (27)
As to a child, I talked my heart asleep/ With empty promise of the coming day,/ And it slept rather for my words made sleep/ Than from a thought of what their sense did say./ For did it care for sens...
Loving Idleness (28)
Oh to be idle loving idleness!/ But I am idle all in hate of me;/ Ever in action's dream, in the false stress/ Of purposed action never act to be./ Like a fierce beast self-penned in a bait-lair,/ My...
How Many Masks Wear We (29)
How many masks wear we, and undermasks,/ Upon our countenance of soul, and when,/ If for self-sport the soul itself unmasks,/ Knows it the last mask off and the face plain?/ The true mask feels no in...
The Unjust Faith's Truth (30)
Thy words are torture to me, that scarce grieve thee �/ That entire death shall null my entire thought;/ And I feel torture, not that I believe thee,/ But that I cannot disbelieve thee not./ Shall th...
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On Anger: "For every minute you remain angry, you give up sixty seconds of peace of mind."
Essays
Essays
On Destiny: "Our destiny exercises its influence over us even when, as yet, we have not learned its nature: it is our future that lays down the law of our today."
Human, All Too Human
Human, All Too Human
On Friendship: "A crowd is not company; and faces are but a gallery of pictures; and talk but a tinkling cymbal, where there is no love."
Essays
Essays