There is an air that haunts me till I slight The witching strains of Weber and Mozart; An air that floods with languorous delight The secret chambers of my lonely heart. Each time I listen to that music old I seem to live two hundred years ago, 'Tis Louis Treize who reigns, and I behold Green uplands golden in the sunset's glow. Then, a tall palace, grey with granite towers And countless window-panes that redly glare, Girt by broad parks through which 'mid bloom of flowers A glassy river wanders here and there. And then, a lady opes a casement high— Pale, with dark eyes, in antique robes arrayed, One whom I loved in centuries gone by— Whose image never from my soul can fade! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A TRUE HYMN [HYMNE] by GEORGE HERBERT EUCALYPTUS TREES by SISTER BENEDICTION GOD AND HIS MARTYRS by CHAIM NACHMAN BIALIK SOCIAL JUSTICE by ERNEST BRADLEY THE UNSPOKEN by ANNE MILLAY BREMER THE LETTER by CHARLOTTE BRONTE |