Dull is my verse: not even thou Who movest many cares away From this lone breast and weary brow, Canst make, as once, its fountain play; No, nor those gentle words that now Support my heart to hear thee say: "The bird upon its lonely bough Sings sweetest at the close of day." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LOVELY CHANCE by SARA TEASDALE IN THE CHURCHYARD AT CAMBRIDGE by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE DYING SWAN by THOMAS STURGE MOORE ADVICE TO A LADY [IN AUTUMN] by PHILIP DORMER STANHOPE IDYLLS OF THE KING: PELLEAS AND ETTARRE by ALFRED TENNYSON THE CAPTAIN; A LEGEND OF THE NAVY by ALFRED TENNYSON |