A POET writ a song of May That checked his breath awhile; He kept it for a summer day, Then spake with half a smile: "Oh, little song of purity, Of mystic to-and-fro, You are so much a part of me I dare not let you go." And so he made a sister-song With more of cunning art; But held the first his whole life long Deep hidden in his heart. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MARY DONNELLY by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM ASPECTS OF THE PINES by PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE RETRIBUTION by FRIEDRICH VON LOGAU THE DRUM: THE NARRATIVE OF THE DEMON OF TEDWORTH by EDITH SITWELL TIPPERARY: 1. BY OUR OWN JAMES OPPENHEIM by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS OF BEAUTY by EVA K. ANGLESBURG PSALM 61 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE |