Lord, is the Poet to destruction vowed, Like the dawn-feather of an April cloud, Which signs in russet character or grey The name of Beauty on the book of Day? We poets crave no heav'n but what is ours -- These trees beside these rivers; these same flowers Shaped and enfragranced to the English field Where Thy best florist-craft is full revealed. Trees by the river, birds upon the bough My soul shall ask for, whose flesh enjoys them now Through both the pale-blue windows of quick Mind; | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LOST AND FOUND by GEORGE MACDONALD OUR LADY'S LULLABY by RICHARD ROWLANDS REJECTED ADDRESSES: THE BABY'S DEBUT, BY W. W. by JAMES SMITH (1775-1839) TO - (4) by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH TWILIGHT SYMPHONY by LESLIE ANDERSON THE FLAME-BRIDE by WILLIAM ROSE BENET PRELUDE TO THE NANTAHALAS by BARBARA BOWEN |