FORGOTTEN streams, yet wishful to be known, With humble moan In rushy channels working, called us on; These might have with as good result Remained occult And gray and dumb; For where they curled and called we could not come. Some tottering hut they called the Moated Grange Bade our steps range And cramped routine for rural loves exchange; That thatched spectre might as well With some fierce shell Have sunk to earth; A jealous god declined our going forth. And that delightful maybush, that above The dead mill-drove With rose-lipped courtesy and whispering love Enchanted, was not ours to touch. Between, this grutch, This staring curse Made a blind wall, and kept our lips averse. The simple road proposed most kind desires For further spires, Hearths, garden-grots, dove-cots; but fang-fixed wires And ambushed airy murder lay All day, that way; A simple road, -- The rampart where the sleepless phantom strode. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MY FAMILIAR DREAM by PAUL VERLAINE THE HUNTING OF THE SNARK: FIT 3. THE BAKER'S TALE by CHARLES LUTWIDGE DODGSON MODERN LOVE: 34 by GEORGE MEREDITH THE SHADOWS by FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN THE SHEPHEARDES CALENDER: JANUARY by EDMUND SPENSER GARDEN DAYS: 6. AUTUMN FIRES by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON |