I know a green grass path that leaves the field And, like a running river, winds along Into a leafy wood, where is no throng Of birds at noon-day; and no soft throats yield Their music to the moon. The place is sealed, An unclaimed sovereignty of voiceless song, And all the unravished silences belong To some sweet singer lost, or unrevealed. So is my soul become a silent place.... Oh, may I wake from this uneasy night To find some voice of music manifold. Let it be shape of sorrow with wan face Or love that swoons on sleep, or else delight That is as wide-eyed as a marigold. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BETTER PART by MATTHEW ARNOLD TO HIS MISTRESS by ABRAHAM COWLEY THE BRIDGE BUILDER by WILL ALLEN DROMGOOLE TO THE UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE, IN NEW-ENGLAND by PHILLIS WHEATLEY DAWN AT LEXINGTON by KATHARINE LEE BATES ON GRACE CHURCH CORNER by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |