What seek I here to gather into words? The scenes that rise before me as I turn The pages of old times. A word -- a name -- Conjures the past before me, till it grows More actual than the present: that -- I see But with the common eyes of daily life, Imperfect and impatient; but the past Out of imagination works its truth, And grows distinct with poetry. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE JOY OF THE HILLS by EDWIN MARKHAM FOR THE BAPTIST by WILLIAM DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN THE FAIRY THORN; AN ULSTER BALLAD by SAMUEL FERGUSON ASKING FOR ROSES by ROBERT FROST GLOTTO'S TOWER by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW HUGH SELWYN MAUBERLEY: 1. E.P. ODE POUR L'ELECTION DE SON SEPULCHRE by EZRA POUND |