WHEN I thy book, friend, open hastily, Full many a cherish'd picture meets my view, And many a golden image that I knew In boyish dreams and days of infancy. Proudly tow'rd heaven upsoaring, then I see The pious dome, rear'd by religion true, I hear the sound of bell and organ too, Love's sweet lament at times addressing me. Well see I, too, how o'er the dome they skip, The nimble dwarfs, and with malicious joy The beauteous flow'r- and carved- work destroy But though the oak of foliage we may strip, And rob it of its fair and verdant grace, When spring returns, fresh leaves it dons apace. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHEN I WROTE A LITTLE by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE KING OF SPAIN by MAXWELL BODENHEIM TO MY HONOURED FRIEND DR. CHARLETON by JOHN DRYDEN LINES ON THE MERMAID TAVERN by JOHN KEATS IN EMULATION OF MR. COWLEYS POEM CALL'D THE MOTTO by MARY ASTELL |