Was Time not harsh to you, or was he kind, O pale Erinna of the perfect lyre, That he has left no word of singing fire Whereby you waked the dreaming Lesbian wind, And kindled night along the lyric shore? O girl whose lips Erato stooped to kiss, Do you go sorrowing because of this In fields where poets sing forevermore? Or are you glad and is it best to be A silent music men have never heard, A dream in all our souls that we may say: "Her voice had all the rapture of the sea, And all the clear cool quiver of a bird Deep in a forest at the break of day"? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOWN THE MISSISSIPPI: 3. FULL MOON by JOHN GOULD FLETCHER THE IRISH SPINNING-WHEEL by ALFRED PERCEVAL GRAVES I, TOO by JAMES LANGSTON HUGHES CHICAGO [OCTOBER 8-10, 1871] by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER |