O lonely heart so timid of approach,
Like the shy tropic flower that shuts its lips
To the faint touch of tender finger tips:
What is your word? What question would you broach?
Your lustrous-warm eyes are too sadly kind
To mask the meaning of your dreamy tale,
Your guarded life too exquisitely frail
Against the daggers of my warring mind.
There is no part of the unyielding earth,
Even bare rocks where the eagles build their nest,
Will give us undisturbed and friendly rest.
No dewfall softens this vast belt of dearth.
But in the socket-chiseled teeth of strife,
That gleam in serried files in all the lands,
We may join hungry, understanding hands,
And drink our share of ardent love and life.
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Comments about this poem (Courage by Claude McKay )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Harivansh Rai Bachchan
(27 November 1907 – 18 January 2003)
Federico García Lorca
(5 June 1898 – 19 August 1936)
Rainer Maria Rilke
(4 December 1875 – 29 December 1926)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
William Ernest Henley
(1849 - 1902)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
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