YOU ask us if by rule or no Our many-colored songs are wrought: Upon the cunning loom of thought, We weave our fancies, so and so. The busy shuttle comes and goes Across the rhymes, and deftly weaves A tissue out of autumn leaves, With here a thistle, there a rose. With art and patience thus is made The poet's perfect Cloth of Gold: When woven so, nor moth nor mould Nor time can make its colors fade. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BERG (A DREAM) by HERMAN MELVILLE THE ANVIL OF SOULS by WILLIAM ROSE BENET IN AN ANCIENT LAND by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE A SONG OF APPLE-BLOOM by GORDON BOTTOMLEY SPRING by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD THE BALL, 1789 by HENRY CUYLER BUNNER |