Joy is like a moth -- It wavers -- quivers, -- 'Tis vague as silver froth On ancient rivers. Now floats a vagrant air With breezes blowing; Disdaining thought or care, Heeds not its going! Ah! freely let it rove A fairy winging, And for your treasure-trove Its wind-blown singing! Touch not its heart so warm E'en though it lingers, Lest cold you find its form In vandal fingers! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO MR. S.T. COLERIDGE by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE WORLD-SOUL by RALPH WALDO EMERSON IN APIA BAY by CHARLES GEORGE DOUGLAS ROBERTS TWO SONGS FROM THE PERSIAN: 1 by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE BURIED FLOWER by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN LULLABY IN BETHLEHEM by HENRY HOWARTH BASHFORD LOST LAUGHTER by MINNIE HALLOWELL BOWEN EPIGRAM ON THE FEUDS BETWEEN HANDEL AND BONONCINI by JOHN BYROM |