THERE'S something so supremely strange, That o'er my spirit's widest range Its fragrant incense swiftly flings— Depicting love—without the wings; There's something in this heaving breast, Which I have ling'ring, long confessed, Which bids me now with trembling awe Turn from deep search of ancient lore, To Beauty's shrine—to Mercy's seat— With votive prayers the goddess greet; With burning vows of boundless love, Perchance her heart I yet may move— Perchance that eye of dancing glee May answer mine—light but for me! Oh! how that fairy form could fire My young, my sighing, darling lyre! If drear misfortune ere should chill, What hand could soothe with fonder thrill? Thy tones could raise my drooping mind With accents sweeter than the wind To string my harp with glowing zeal— To force man's rocky breast to feel The poet's strain—his quenchless flame— His high estate—his deathless name. Ah! none this saving power can wield Save thou; and wilt thou scornful yield My boyish dream to useless clay And darken childhood's bounding day? Away the thought! forever fly! My blasted heart would grieving die, If she on whom its every beam Falls in one endless, brilliant stream, Should close her soul 'gainst suppliant light, And every soaring fancy blight— It cannot be! It cannot be! I'll harbor no such thought of thee— But ever, ever shalt thou reign, Dear Empress of my heart and brain! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TERMINUS (1) by RALPH WALDO EMERSON A MIDSUMMER'S NOON IN THE AUSTRALIAN FOREST by CHARLES HARPUR FAREWELL TO CYNTHIA by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS AUTUMNAL SONNET by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM A DREAM by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |