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.

Analysis, meaning and summary of Amy Lowell's poem The Poet

2 Comments

  1. Harry Dick says:

    This poem is truely outstanding. I love to read her work. Actually i don’t. This lady is weird and makes peoms that make absolutely no sense. Her rhyming sucks butt. Thanks for the opportunity to share my thoughts.

  2. GARY BENDER says:

    AMY What a wonderful poem, really good lines, made me smile thank you for sharing your thoughts.
    gary

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