He climbs his lady's tower, where sail Cold clouds about the moon, And at his feet the nightingale Sings--Sir, too soon, too soon ! He steals across his lady's park, He tries her secret gate, And overhead the saucy lark Sings--Sir, too late, too late! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WIND'S VISIT by EMILY DICKINSON THOMAS MACDONAGH by FRANCIS LEDWIDGE TWILIGHT AT SEA by AMELIA B. WELBY TO MY FRIENDS, WHO RIDICULED A TENDER LEAVE-TAKING by MATTHEW ARNOLD TARQUIN AND THE AUGUR by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN MOON RIDER by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |