What is poetry? Is it a mosaic Of coloured stones which curiously are wrought Into a pattern? Rather glass that's taught By patient labor any hue to take And glowing with a sumptuous splendor, make Beauty a thing of awe; where sunbeams caught, Transmuted fall in sheafs of rainbows fraught With storied meaning for religion's sake. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DUNES OF INDIANA by EDGAR LEE MASTERS JANUARY by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THE LAND OF DREAMS by WILLIAM BLAKE A BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 19. THE FAIRY QUEEN PROSERPINA by THOMAS CAMPION DISAPPOINTED by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR |