I am as certain of my song, When first it warms my brain, As woman of her unborn child, Or wind that carries rain. The child and rain are born at last, Though now concealed from sight So let my song, unshaped and crude, Come perfect to the light. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BROKEN HEART by JOHN DONNE BINSEY POPLARS (FELLED 1879) by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS MONDAY'S CHILD by MOTHER GOOSE EPIGRAM: PERJURY by ROBERT NUGENT OLD KING COLE by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON TO WORDSWORTH by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY THE CENTENARIAN'S STORY by WALT WHITMAN |