THERE were years vague of measure Needless the asking when; No honours, praises, pleasure Reached common maids from men. And hence no lures bewitched them, No hand was stretched to raise, No gracious gifts enriched them, No voices sang their praise. Yet an iris at that season Amid the accustomed slight From denseness, dull unreason, Ringed me with living light. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE PILGRIM by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD SONNET: 8. TO THE RIVER ITCHIN, NEAR WINTON by WILLIAM LISLE BOWLES GHOSTS by MARION FRANCIS BROWN THE UTMOST by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON THE WALK TO EMMAUS by OLIVA WARD BUSH MAKING SOAP IN VERMONT by DANIEL LEAVENS CADY TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 2. I COME FORTH FROM THE DARKNESS by EDWARD CARPENTER |