FAR over Elf-land poets stretch their sway, And win their dearest crowns beyond the goal Of their own conscious purpose; they control With gossamer threads wide-flown our fancy's play, And so our action. On my walk to-day, A wallowing bear begged clumsily his toll, When straight a vision rose of Atta Troll, And scenes ideal witched mine eyes away. +"@3Merci, Mossieu !@1" the astonished bear-ward cried, Grateful for thrice his hope to me, the slave Of partial memory, seeing at his side A bear immortal. The glad dole I gave Was none of mine; poor Heine o'er the wide Atlantic welter reached it from his grave. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...KUBLA KHAN by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE INDIAN SUMMER by EMILY DICKINSON SIGNS OF THE TIMES by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR COUSIN NANCY by THOMAS STEARNS ELIOT THE ABSINTHE-DRINKER by ARTHUR WILLIAM SYMONS THE WEDDING DAY; OR, THE BUCCANEER'S CURSE; A FAMILY LEGEND by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM INVITATION TO PETERHEAD by JAMES HAY BEATTIE |