WHITHER is gone the wisdom and the power That ancient sages scatter'd with the notes Of thought-suggesting lyres? The music floats In the void air; e'en at this breathing hour, In every cell and every blooming bower The sweetness of old lays is hovering still: But the strong soul, the self-constraining will, The rugged root that bare the winsome flower Is weak and wither'd. Were we like the Fays That sweetly nestle in the foxglove bells, Or lurk and murmur in the rose-lipp'd shells Which Neptune to the earth for quit-rent pays, Then might our pretty modern Philomels Sustain our spirits with their roundelays. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE GIANT PUFFBALL by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN TO A BLUEBELL by EMILY JANE BRONTE ELEGIAC SONNET: 2. WRITTEN AT THE CLOSE OF SPRING by CHARLOTTE SMITH LONDON SURVEYED AND ILLUSTRATED by JOHANNEM ADAMUS THE FROGS: THE RIVAL POETS by ARISTOPHANES A LAMENT by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES FRAGMENTS INTENDED FOR DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: MURDERER'S HAUNTED COUCH by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES |