I. THE summer brook flows in the bed, The winter torrent tore asunder; The sky-lark's gentle wings are spread, Where walk the lightning and the thunder: And thus you'll find the sternest soul The greatest tenderness concealing, And minds, that seem to mock control, Are ordered by some fairy feeling. II. Then, maiden! start not from the hand That's hardened by the swaying sabre -- The pulse beneath may be as bland As evening after day of labour: And, maiden! start not from the brow That thought has knit, and passion darkened -- In twilight hours, 'neath forest bough, The tenderest tales are often hearkened. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LONDON, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE A SECOND REVIEW OF THE GRAND ARMY [MAY 24, 1865] by FRANCIS BRET HARTE THE RUBAIYAT, 1889 EDITION: 19 by OMAR KHAYYAM JOHN PELHAM by JAMES RYDER RANDALL FIRELIGHT by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON |