WIT, weight, or wealth there was not In anything that was said, In anything that was done; All was of scope to cause not A triumph, dazzle, or dread To even the subtlest one, My friend, To even the subtlest one. But there was a new afflation -- An aura zephyring round That care infected not: It came as a salutation, And, in my sweet astound, I scarcely witted what Might pend, I scarcely witted what. The hills in samewise to me Spoke, as they grayly gazed, -- First hills to speak so yet! The thin-edged breezes blew me What I, though cobwebbed, crazed. Was never to forget, My friend, Was never to forget! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPITAPHS OF THE WAR, 1914-18: CONVOY ESCORT by RUDYARD KIPLING A DIALOGUE BETWEEN THE SOUL AND BODY by ANDREW MARVELL MADRIGAL: 109 by MICHELANGELO BUONARROTI IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 5 by ALFRED TENNYSON THE WELCOME TO ALEXANDRA by ALFRED TENNYSON TO IRELAND IN THE COMING TIMES by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS TO HIS LATE MAJESTY, CONCERNING..TRUE FORM OF ENGLISH POETRY by JOHN BEAUMONT |