My heart has thanked thee, Bowles! for those soft strains Whose sadness soothes me, like the murmuring Of wild-bees in the sunny showers of spring! For hence not callous to the mourner's pains Through Youth's gay prime and thornless paths I went: And when the mightier throes of mind began, And drove me forth, a thought-bewildered man, Their mild and manliest melancholy lent A mingled charm, such as the pang consigned To slumber, though the big tear it renewed; Bidding a strange mysterious Pleasure brood Over the wavy and tumultuous mind, As the great Spirit erst with plastic sweep Moved on the darkness of the unformed deep. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CHILTERNS by RUPERT BROOKE THE PLAINT OF THE CAMEL by CHARLES EDWARD CARRYL THE CAGED GOLDFINCH by THOMAS HARDY THE WORLD by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI IN SCHOOL-DAYS by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER DEAD MEN, TO A METAPHYSICIAN by WILLIAM HERVEY ALLEN JR. |