Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, HOW THE SONG WAS MADE, by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

HOW THE SONG WAS MADE, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: I sat low down, at midnight, in a vale
Last Line: Silent awhile, and muse, but make no comment.
Alternate Author Name(s): Meredith, Owen; Lytton, 1st Earl Of; Lytton, Robert
Subject(s): Poetry & Poets


I SAT low down, at midnight, in a vale
Mysterious with the silence of blue pines:
White-cloven by a snaky river-tail,
Uncoiled from tangled wefts of silver twines.

Out of a crumbling castle, on a spike
Of splintered rock, a mile of changeless shade
Gorged half the landscape. Down a dismal dike
Of black hills the sluiced moonbeams streamed, and stayed.

The world lay like a poet in a swoon,
When God is on him, filled with heaven, all through, --
A dim face full of dreams turned to the moon,
With mild lips moist in melancholy dew.

I plucked blue mugwort, livid mandrakes, balls
Of blossomed nightshade, heads of hemlock, long
White grasses, grown in oozy intervals
Of marsh, to make ingredients for a song:

A song of mourning to embalm the Past, --
The corpse-cold Past, -- that it should not decay;
But in dark vaults of memory, to the last,
Endure unchanged: for in some future day

I will bring my new love to look at it
(Laying aside her gay robes for a moment)
That, seeing what love came to, she may sit
Silent awhile, and muse, but make no comment.





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