The gilded phaloi of the crocuses are thrusting at the spring air. Here is there naught of dead gods But a procession of festival, A procession, O Giulio Romano, Fit for your spirit to dwell in. Dione, your nights are upon us. The dew is upon the leaf. The night about us is restless. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CARELESS CONTENT by JOHN BYROM LAMENT FOR THE DEATH OF EOGHAN RUADH (OWEN ROE) O'NEIL by THOMAS OSBORNE DAVIS JILTED by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR LIKE A LAVEROCK IN THE LIFT by JEAN INGELOW AT BAY RIDGE, LONG ISLAND by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE MOTHER-FAITH by EVERARD JACK APPLETON LILIES: 26. THE PSYCHE-SERVICE by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |