These fairest moments slip from fingertips,
Which clasp now time, whilst grasping for repose
In those immortal lands, where man's old foes
Shall never go, and where from hope now drips
Poetry is musical and thus is best heard. Below you can listen to the poem being read aloud.
"Poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words."
Read the Poem again
Put away your devices
Be present and contemplate