''T is the sunset of life gives me mystical lore, And coming events cast their shadows before.' CAMPBELL. LADY! if for the cold and cloudy clime Where I was born, but where I would not die, Of the great Poet-Sire of Italy I dare to build the imitative rhyme, Harsh Runic copy of the South's sublime, THOU art the cause; and howsoever I Fall short of his immortal harmony, Thy gentle heart will pardon me the crime. Thou, in the pride of Beauty and of Youth, Spakest; and for thee to speak and be obey'd Are one; but only in the sunny South Such sounds are utter'd, and such charms display'd, So sweet a language from so fair a mouth -- Ah! to what effort would it not persuade? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LITTLE GIRL LOST, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE SELF-INTERROGATION by EMILY JANE BRONTE BREST LEFT BEHIND by JOHN CHIPMAN FARRAR IN THE SHADOWS: 20 by DAVID GRAY (1838-1861) ON THE DEATH OF LITTLE MAHALA ASHCRAFT by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY THE BROOK; AN IDYL: THE BROOK'S SONG by ALFRED TENNYSON MY MOTHER by GEORGE WASHINGTON BETHUNE RECOLLECTIONS OF SOLITUDE; AN ELEGY by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES |