In a little house keep I pictures suspended, it is not a fix'd house, It is round, it is only a few inches from one side to the other; Yet behold, it has room for all the shows of the world, all memories! Here the tableaus of life, and here the groupings of death; Here, do you know this? this is cicerone himself, With finger rais'd he points to the prodigal pictures. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MY LOVE COULD WALK by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES HIC JACET by LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON VERSES WRITTEN IN A BLANK LEAF OF TIGHE'S 'PSYCHE' by BERNARD BARTON THE GENTLE CHECK by JOSEPH BEAUMONT FAUN by ANGELO PHILIP BERTOCCI |