WHAT is it here within my breast Keeps springing, rushing, flowing? The sounds both grief and joy suggest, Like palms in soft winds blowing. 'T is like the lark's exultant strain In blue spring heavens soaring, And organ tones in holy fane Through Christmas incense pouring. It is a jubilant accord Of harmonies most fair; It is -- now I have found the word -- Love's melodies so rare. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PRELUDES: 1-4 (COMPLETE) by THOMAS STEARNS ELIOT UPON HIS LEAVING HIS MISTRESS by JOHN WILMOT HOMAGE TO QUINTUS SEPTIMIUS FLORENTIS CHRISTIANUS: TROY by AGATHIAS SCHOLASTICUS TO A LADY FOR A NOSEGAY by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD AN ELEGY ON MR. WILLIAM HOPTON by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |