In days of old, before man's advent here, Some wondrous Titan cut this water-way; And never since have summer skies been clear, For weeping clouds make one, long, April day; And day or night here deathless noise has rung Summer or winter, countless ages through, As if by nymphs a ceaseless dirge were sung, Or water-wraiths their loudest trumpets blew. But if these rapids find a calmer sea, And if these currents purer, sweeter grow, Emerging from this maelstrom; then to me Pain may be blest and my life-stream may flow Purer by far; so I shall bless the Hand That through this tract of years my course has planned. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONGS OF INNOCENCE: INTRODUCTION by WILLIAM BLAKE CHAMBER MUSIC: 1 by JAMES JOYCE AFTER MUSIC by JOSEPHINE PRESTON PEABODY THE SPIRIT OF THE TIMES by ALEXANDER ANDERSON VILLAGE GREEN by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN QUEEN MARY'S LETTER TO BOTHWELL by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 41. FAREWELL TO JULIET (3) by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |