Art thou asleep? or have thy wings Wearied of my unchanging skies? Or, haply, is it fading dreams Are in my eyes? Not even an echo in my heart Tells me the courts thy feet trod last, Bare as a leafless wood it is, The summer past. My inmost mind is like a book The reader dulls with lassitude, Wherein the same old lovely words Sound poor and rude. Yet through this vapid surface, I Seem to see old-time deeps; I see, Past the dark painting of the hour, Life's ecstasy. Only a moment; as when day Is set, and in the shade of night, Through all the clouds that compassed her, Stoops into sight. Pale, changeless, everlasting Dian, Gleams on the prone Endymion, Troubles the dulness of his dreams: And then is gone. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON MY JOYFUL DEPARTURE FROM THE CITY OF COLOGNE by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE THE PHANTOM HORSEWOMAN by THOMAS HARDY OPPORTUNITY by JOHN JAMES INGALLS THE HERITAGE by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL ON A GREEK VASE by FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN MAUD MULLER by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER |