Where antique woods o'erhang the mountain's crest, And mid-day glooms in solemn silence lour; Philosophy, go seek a lonely bower, And waste life's fervid noon in fancied rest. Go, where the bird of sorrow weaves her nest, Cooing, in sadness sweet, through night's dim hour; Go, cull the dewdrops from each potent flower That med'cines to the cold and reasoning breast! Go, where the brook in liquid lapse steals by, Scarce heard amidst the mingling echoes round, What time, the noon fades slowly down the sky, And slumbering zephyrs moan, in caverns bound: Be these thy pleasures, dull Philosophy! Nor vaunt the balm, to heal a lover's wound. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A BANJO SONG by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR A CHRISTMAS CAROL, SUNG TO THE KING IN THE PRESENCE AT WHITEHALL by ROBERT HERRICK SONNET: 94 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE NORTH-WEST PASSAGE: 3. IN PORT by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON THE BLUEBELLS OF NEW ENGLAND by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH CURIOUSLY EVANESCENT by EVA K. ANGLESBURG |