FORGIVE what I, adventuring highest themes, Have spoiled and darkened, and the awkward hand That longed to point the moral of man's dreams And shut the wicket-gates of fairyland: So by too harsh intrusion Left colourless confusion. For even the glories that I most revered, Seen through a gloomed perspective in strange mood, Were not what to our British seers appeared; I spoke of peace, I made a solitude, Herding with deathless graces My hobbling commonplaces. Forgive that eyeless lethargy which chilled Your ardours and I fear dimmed much fine gold -- What your bright passion, leaping ages, thrilled To find and claim, and I yet dared withhold; These and all chance offences Against your finer senses. And I will ever pray for your souls' health, Remembering how, deep-tasked yet eager-eyed, You loved imagination's commonwealth, Following with smiling wonder a frail guide Who bears beyond the ocean The voice of your devotion. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ANDROMEDA by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS NOVEMBER, 1806 by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH PEREGRINUS by LASCELLES ABERCROMBIE ACROSS THE STREET by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH GROWTH by MILDRED TELFORD BARNWELL A MANUAL MORE ANCIENT THAT THE ART OF PRINTING ... by VINCENT BOURNE |