LOVERS think that they alone possess A sense of beauty. They ascribe all graces To their love; seeing earth's wintry places Warmed and enchanted, they suppose and guess Their own illusion makes the loveliness. They dream their flame illumines the dim spaces Of the sky; they think the earth embraces No charm but that their pleasure can express. Yet we, who shun romance, find beauty near; A stillness in the air when summer's gone; On the fine winter stem hang subtle fruits; We like to see the slender willow spear; We like red weeds and branches blackly drawn, And the white snow embroidered with brown roots. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ODE (MUSIC-MAKERS) by ARTHUR WILLIAM EDGAR O'SHAUGHNESSY VIRGILS GNAT: DEDICATORY SONNET by EDMUND SPENSER MNEMOSYNE by TRUMBULL STICKNEY DOROTHY IN THE GARRET by JOHN TOWNSEND TROWBRIDGE THE POET'S SPEAR by ARCHILOCHUS AMBITION by MILDRED TELFORD BARNWELL L'AMOUR DU MENSONGE by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE WRITTEN ON A GLOOMY DAY, IN SICKNESS. THACKWOOD, 4TH JUNE, 1786 by SUSANNA BLAMIRE |