Learn More

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

(27 February 1807 – 24 March 1882 / Portland, Maine)

The Goblet Of Life


Filled is Life's goblet to the brim;
And though my eyes with tears are dim,
I see its sparkling bubbles swim,
And chant a melancholy hymn
With solemn voice and slow.

No purple flowers,--no garlands green,
Conceal the goblet's shade or sheen,
Nor maddening draughts of Hippocrene,
Like gleams of sunshine, flash between
Thick leaves of mistletoe.

This goblet, wrought with curious art,
Is filled with waters, that upstart,
When the deep fountains of the heart,
By strong convulsions rent apart,
Are running all to waste.

And as it mantling passes round,
With fennel is it wreathed and crowned,
Whose seed and foliage sun-imbrowned
Are in its waters steeped and drowned,
And give a bitter taste.

Above the lowly plants it towers,
The fennel, with its yellow flowers,
And in an earlier age than ours
Was gifted with the wondrous powers,
Lost vision to restore.

It gave new strength, and fearless mood;
And gladiators, fierce and rude,
Mingled it in their daily food;
And he who battled and subdued,
A wreath of fennel wore.

Then in Life's goblet freely press,
The leaves that give it bitterness,
Nor prize the colored waters less,
For in thy darkness and distress
New light and strength they give!

And he who has not learned to know
How false its sparkling bubbles show,
How bitter are the drops of woe,
With which its brim may overflow,
He has not learned to live.

The prayer of Ajax was for light;
Through all that dark and desperate fight
The blackness of that noonday night
He asked but the return of sight,
To see his foeman's face.

Let our unceasing, earnest prayer
Be, too, for light,--for strength to bear
Our portion of the weight of care,
That crushes into dumb despair
One half the human race.

O suffering, sad humanity!
O ye afflicted one; who lie
Steeped to the lips in misery,
Longing, and yet afraid to die,
Patient, though sorely tried!

I pledge you in this cup of grief,
Where floats the fennel's bitter leaf!
The Battle of our Life is brief
The alarm,--the struggle,--the relief,
Then sleep we side by side.

Submitted: Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (The Goblet Of Life by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Trending Poets

Trending Poems

  1. The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
  2. Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas
  3. Invictus, William Ernest Henley
  4. The Saddest Poem, Pablo Neruda
  5. Alone, Edgar Allan Poe
  6. Christmas Trees, Robert Frost
  7. Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep, Mary Elizabeth Frye
  8. A Dream Within A Dream, Edgar Allan Poe
  9. Dreams, Langston Hughes
  10. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost

Poem of the Day

poet James Whitcomb Riley

There! little girl; don't cry!
They have broken your doll, I know;
And your tea-set blue,
And your play-house, too,
Are things of the long ago;
...... Read complete »

   

New Poems

  1. Forgotten, Michael P. McParland
  2. Forgive Me?, Michael P. McParland
  3. The Hermit, David Lessard
  4. Forever Yours, Michael P. McParland
  5. Colors of Our Love, Saliah Jabbar
  6. Forever Hope, Michael P. McParland
  7. Many Mornings Before Sunrise, M.J. Lemon
  8. For You, Michael P. McParland
  9. For Now (Know I Miss You), Michael P. McParland
  10. Footsteps, Michael P. McParland
[Hata Bildir]