AND did'st thou know indeed, when at the font Together with thy name thou gav'st me his, That also on thy son must Beatrice Decline her eyes according to her wont, Accepting me to be of those that haunt The vale of magical dark mysteries Where to the hills her poet's foot-track lies And wisdom's living fountain to his chaunt Trembles in music? This is that steep land Where he that holds his journey stands at gaze Tow'rd sunset, when the clouds like a new height Seem piled to climb. These things I understand: For here, where day still soothes my lifted face, On thy bowed head, my father, fell the night. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN JANUARY by GORDON BOTTOMLEY OH! WEEP FOR THOSE by GEORGE GORDON BYRON WYNKEN, BLYNKEN AND NOD by EUGENE FIELD A STORM IN THE DISTANCE (AMONG THE GEORGIAN HILLS) by PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE SONNET: DANTE (2) by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW HERE LIES A LADY by JOHN CROWE RANSOM |