Classic and Contemporary Poetry
ILLUSION, by ETHELYN HARDESTY CLEAVER First Line: We are but travelers treading o'er a path Last Line: And makes life more worth living! Subject(s): Future; Hallucinations & Illusions; Life | ||||||||
We are but travelers treading o'er a path Which weary pilgrims oft have trod before And many yet unborn will tread again. Yet on we go with joy, as if 'twere new. Though strewn ofttimes with thorns that pierce our feet, And roses bloom but rarely on the way, We still must e'er traverse it and we do, Remembering not the sharpness of the thorns One half so much as the roses' sweet perfume, Their charm and loveliness. And well it is That memory treasures most and most retains The things that give us pleasure; for by them The path is brightened by a roseate glow That doth illumine all the days of yore. Sometimes the path's so narrow -- steep the way -- We most concentred are upon the new And fear to retrospect or look beyond Lest the distractions then should fatal prove. But not for long; soon the hills divide; A valley lies between, through which is caught A vista of the scenes henceforth to come; And through the haze, though dimly, we discern The future -- bright with a resplendent sun, Roses without a thorn, and life itself One grand unending song. Foes are as naught Compared with our superior strength and skill. The world is ours, existing, as it seems, To grant us power, to make us feel that we Are conquerors, and e'en the world itself May overcome. Victorious future days! Such is our view. What though its color fade And less resplendent prove as we approach, If in the future it so lovely seem, And in the past retaineth most its charm And not its sting when claimed as memory's own. Well may we thankful be, and e'er remain, That in Pandora's box when 'scaped the ills That should afflict the world forevermore, One solace given was -- illusive ray -- That on this path we tread from birth to death, Forever makes the future charming seem, And aiding retrospection in her task, Makes past become to us a source of joy. Illusion was a gift which ne'er can be surpassed -- It stimulates the rare, enchanting talisman of Hope, And makes Life more worth living! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PRIVILEGE OF BEING by ROBERT HASS SEAWATER STIFFENS CLOTH by JANE HIRSHFIELD SAYING YES TO LIVING by DAVID IGNATOW |
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