Like a herald rainbow springing from a cloud, His voice ascends the spangled arch of night; Lovely with the color of a thousand songs, It throbs and fills the ear beyond delight. Fresh in lyric plunder mellowed in his breast, Our vocal Shakespeare wakes the silent hour; Warm with eager rapture, his melodies addressed To memories of day, for lovers of unrest. Motley in its mixture, frenzied in its tone, Sweeter far than solos ever are, Medley follows medley in echoes that have flown From throats that sang one song and one alone. I do not know the skylark nor the feted nightingale, But I have heard the mockingbird aspire To sereneade the stars with a tongue of a passionate de To sereneade the stars with a tongue of silver fire, And I have learned the music of a passionate desire. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DEEP IN THE NIGHT by SARA TEASDALE FRIENDS BEYOND by THOMAS HARDY THE WRECK OF THE DEUTSCHLAND by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS THE DARK FOREST by PHILIP EDWARD THOMAS I DREAM I'M LEAVING by MARGARET AHO MATRIMONIAL MELODIES: 3. SYSTEM by BERTON BRALEY THE BOY AND THE ANGEL by ROBERT BROWNING |