YET what were love, and what were toil and thought, And what were life, bereft of Poesy? Who lingers in a garden where the bee By no rich beds of fragrant flowers is caught -- A homely vegetable patch where naught Is prized but for some table-caterer's fee, And Nature pledged to market-ministry? To me another lore was early taught; And rather would I lose the dear delights Of eye and ear, than wilfully forego The power that can transfigure sounds and sights, Can steep the world in symbols, and bestow The free admittance to all depths and heights, And make dull earth a heaven of thought below. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SNOWING OF THE PINES' by THOMAS WENTWORTH HIGGINSON SONGS WITH PRELUDES: REGRET by JEAN INGELOW THE BANNER OF THE JEW by EMMA LAZARUS HASCHEESH by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH COTTON MILL FUNERAL by STEWART ATKINS BLEAKE'S HOUSE IN BLACKMWORE by WILLIAM BARNES TO MRS W. ON HER EXCELLENT VERSES WRITTEN IN A FIT OF SICKNESS by APHRA BEHN |