Most wounds can Time repair;
But some are mortal -- these:
For a broken heart there is no balm,
No cure for a heart at ease --
At ease, but cold as stone,
Though the intellect spin on,
And the feat and practiced face may show
Nought of the life that is gone;
But smiles, as by habit taught;
And sighs, as by custom led;
And the soul within is safe from damnation,
Since it is dead.
Walter De La Mare
| Best Poems | Short Poems
Email Poem |
More Poems by Walter de la Mare
Comments, Analysis, and Meaning on At Ease
Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem At Ease here.
Commenting turned off, sorry.