A light and joyous figure, one that seems As if the air were her own element; Begirt with cheerful thoughts, and bringing back Old days, when nymphs upon Arcadian plains Made musical the wind, and in the sun Flashed their bright cymbals and their whitest hands. These were the days of poetry -- the woods Were haunted with sweet shadows; and the caves, Odorous with moss, and it with shining spars, Were homes where Naiads met some graceful youth Beneath the moonlit heaven -- all this is past; Ours is a darker and a sadder age; Heaven help us through it! -- 'tis a weary world The dust and ashes of a happier time. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ALL FOOLS' CALENDER by DONALD (GRADY) DAVIDSON THE FINDING OF THE LYRE by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL UPON THE CIRCUMCISION by JOHN MILTON MEMORIAL TABLET (GREAT WAR, 1918) by SIEGFRIED SASSOON ALFRED THE HARPER by JOHN STERLING (1806-1844) CHRISTMAS IN 1875 by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT THE WANDERER: 1. IN ITALY: SILENCE by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |