THE weltering London ways where children weep And girls whom none call maidens laugh,--strange road Miring his outward steps, who inly trode The bright Castalian brink and Latmos' steep:-- Even such his life's cross-paths; till deathly deep He toiled through sands of Lethe; and long pain, Weary with labour spurned and love found vain, In dead Rome's sheltering shadow wrapped his sleep. O pang-dowered Poet, whose reverberant lips And heart-strung lyre awoke the Moon's eclipse,-- Thou whom the daisies glory in growing o'er,--- Their fragrance clings around thy name, not writ But rumour'd in water, while the fame of it Along Time's flood goes echoing evermore. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DUSK IN WAR TIME by SARA TEASDALE THE DARK-EYED GENTLEMAN by THOMAS HARDY INTO THE HEART OF LIFE by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON BARBARA IN THE MEADOW by ALICE CARY FROM MOUNT MANSFIELD by BETTIE MARGOT CASSIE |