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.

Added: on October 5th, 2004 at 7:15 PM | Viewed: 2546 times | Comments (2)

Poet: Amy Lowell
Poem: 12. The Poet
Volume: A Dome of Many-Coloured Glass
- Sonnets

Are you looking for more information on this poem? Perhaps you are trying to analyze it? The poem, The Poet, has received 2 comments. Click here to read them, and perhaps post a comment of your own. Of course you can also always discuss poems by Amy Lowell with others on the American Poems poetry forum!