The Poet
What instinct forces man to journey on, Urged by a longing blind but dominant! Nothing he sees can hold him, nothing daunt His never failing eagerness. The sun Setting in splendour every night has won His vassalage; those towers flamboyant Of airy cloudland palaces now haunt His daylight wanderings. Forever done With simple joys and quiet happiness He guards the vision of the sunset sky; Though faint with weariness he must possess Some fragment of the sunset’s majesty; He spurns life’s human friendships to profess Life’s loneliness of dreaming ecstasy.
Amy Lowell’s other poems:
- The Fool Errant
- The Cyclists
- To Elizabeth Ward Perkins
- The Paper Windmill
- Francis II, King of Naples
Poems of other poets with the same name (Стихотворения других поэтов с таким же названием):
906