The dark rock angered to be blown by the blast Will not be stilled either under pious hands Groping its resemblance to human woes As though in blessing of some dire mold. Here nearly always if the mourning dove coos This immaterial grief with many films of cloud Overcasts the morrows' mellowed star Destined in brilliance to besilver the crowd. Who, by pursuing his solitary bourne Presently external, seeks our vagabond -- Verlaine? He is hid amid the grass, Verlaine Only to discover naively in accord, Not crossing his lip or quenching his breath, A stream not very deep and calumniated death. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 68. AL-KADAR by EDWIN ARNOLD THE GEATE A-VALLEN TO by WILLIAM BARNES PSALM 148 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE LITTLE SISTER by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 3. UNDERNEATH AND AFTER ALL by EDWARD CARPENTER THE PRAIRIE SCHOONER by EDWARD EVERETT DALE |