Yes, I have idled my time away, Have lost the moments of golden day, Nor taken note of the hours so fleet,— The tinkling din of their unseen feet. You frown on the idle one who seems To live her life in a world of dreams; But down in your soft eyes, all the while, I catch the glimpse of a struggling smile. You need no frown, for I rose betimes, I rose to fashion my simple rhymes; The morn would help me with flowers and dew,— You told me so, and I thought 'twas true. Rose of morning and gold of noon Came and faded, but all too soon; And now it ringeth to evening time, And I have written nor prose nor rhyme. But who could handle a pen and ink, Or of rhyme or rhythm or meter think, While winds blew in through the open door, While sunshine flickered across the floor. A breeze like a slumbering melody Bent down the boughs of the willow tree; The lilac branches, with cooling bowers, Seemed dreaming of bygone springtime flowers. I said to myself, "I'll describe the rose, Whose perfumed breath near my window blows"; But the rose conveyed me to southern climes, And I woke with a start to my un-writ rhymes "I'll write of the deeds great minds have wrought,— The masterpieces of hand and thought; Their grandeur," said I, "shall lend my rhyme The majesty of a chant sublime." "Then, too, how sweet will its measures be! Good men will smile o'er my melody And true, pure women will love my lay, Though born of an idle summer day." But O, 'twas vain, for before my eyes Were the blooming earth and the soft blue skies; And I, though willing, could only find The one great work of the One Great Mind. Who needs my song on this day divine! Who cares for meters or chants sublime! The whole green earth is a symphony That throbs with beauty and melody! No pen, no pencil can half express A sense of the untold loveliness That turns the earth into fairylands, But the heart perceives it,—and understands. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BOBOLINKS by CHRISTOPHER PEARSE CRANCH HYMN TO GOD MY GOD, IN MY SICKNESS by JOHN DONNE TO THE PIOUS MEMORY OF THE YOUNG LADY MRS. ANNE KILLIGREW by JOHN DRYDEN THE LAW OF THE YUKON by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE THE BARD'S EXCUSE by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE TRANSLATED WAY by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS TO CHLOE by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE ART OF PRESERVING HEALTH: BOOK 3. ON WASHING by JOHN ARMSTRONG |