My windows now are giant drops of dew, The common stones are dancing in my eyes; The light is winged, and panting, and the world Is fluttering with a little fall or rise. See, while they shoot the sun with singing Larks, How those broad meadows sparkle and rejoice! Where can the Cuckoo hide in all this light, And still remain unseen, and but a voice? Shall I be mean, when all this light is mine? Is anything unworthy of its place? Call for the rat, and let him share my joy, And sit beside me here, to wash his face. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MONNA INNOMINATA, A SONNET OF SONNETS: 10 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE CLOUD by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY THE GARDEN OF PROSERPINE by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 30 by ALFRED TENNYSON FABLE: 16 by ANTOINE VINCENT ARNAULT THE PACIFIC RAILWAY by C. R. BALLARD |