TO-DAY I have talked with old Euripides; Shakespeare this morning sang for my content Of chimney-sweepers; through the Carian trees Comes beating still the nightingales' lament; The Tabard ales to-day are freshly brewed; Wordsworth is with me, mounting Lough-rigg Fell; All timeless deaths in Lycid are renewed, And basils blossom yet for Isabel. Quick thoughts are these; they do not pass; they gave Only to death such little, casual things As are the noteless levies of the grave, -- Sad flesh, weak verse, and idle marketings. So my mortality for yours complains, While our immortal fellowship remains. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AGAINST THE REST OF THE YEAR by JAMES GALVIN JOHANNES AGRICOLA IN MEDITATION by ROBERT BROWNING SOLILOQUY OF THE SPANISH CLOISTER by ROBERT BROWNING A HYMN TO CONTENTMENT by THOMAS PARNELL FRENCH REVOLUTION; AS IT APPEARED TO ENTHUSIASTS AT ITS COMMENCEMENT by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH |