(In the Louvre) SCARCELY, I think; yet it indeed may be The meaning reached him, when this music rang Clear through his frame, a sweet possessive pang, And he beheld these rocks and that ridged sea. But I believe that, leaning tow'rds them, he Just felt their hair carried across his face As each girl passed him; nor gave ear to trace How many feet; nor bent assuredly His eyes from the blind fixedness of thought To know the dancers. It is bitter glad Even unto tears. Its meaning filleth it, A secret of the wells of Life: to wit:-- The heart's each pulse shall keep the sense it had With all, though the mind's labour run to nought. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ORCHARD PIT by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI MUTABILITY (2) by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY THE FAKENHAM GHOST by ROBERT BLOOMFIELD THE JOURNEY OF LIFE by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT LINES WRITTEN IN A LADY'S POCKET-BOOK by ROBERT BURNS |