WITH stammering lips and insufficient sound I strive and struggle to deliver right That music of my nature, day and night With dream and thought and feeling interwound, And inly answering all the senses round With octaves of a mystic depth and height Which step out grandly to the infinite From the dark edges of the sensual ground. This song of soul I struggle to outbear Through portals of the sense, sublime and whole, And utter all myself into the air: But if I did it, -- as the thunder-roll Breaks its own cloud, my flesh would perish there, Before that dread apocalypse of soul. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON SOME LINES OF LOPE DE VEGA by SAMUEL JOHNSON (1709-1784) PICTURES FROM APPLEDORE: 3 by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL SUNDAY MORNING by WALLACE STEVENS THE LUTE OBEYS by THOMAS WYATT PEREGRINUS by LASCELLES ABERCROMBIE COWBOY'S COMPLAINT by SQUIRE OMAR BARKER |