Poetry Archives

Oh why is heaven built so far,
   Oh why is earth set so remote?
I cannot reach the nearest star
   That hangs afloat.

I would not care to reach the moon,
   One round monotonous of change;
Yet even she repeats her tune
   Beyond my range.

I never watch the scatter’d fire
   Of stars, or sun’s far-trailing train,
But all my heart is one desire,
   And all in vain:

For I am bound with fleshly bands,
   Joy, beauty, lie beyond my scope;
I strain my heart, I stretch my hands,
   And catch at hope.