ARE days of old familiar to thy mind, O reader? hast thou let the midnight hour Pass unperceived, whilst thy young fancy lived With high-born beauties and enamour'd chiefs, Shared all their hopes, and with a breathless joy Whose eager expectation almost pain'd, Follow'd their dangerous fortunes? if such lore Has ever thrill'd thy bosom, thou wilt tread As with a pilgrim's reverential thoughts The groves of Penshurst. Sidney here was born, Sidney, than whom no gentler, braver man His own delightful genius ever feign'd Illustrating the vales of Arcady With courteous courage and with loyal loves. Upon his natal day the acorn here Was planted. It grew up a stately oak, And in the beauty of its strength it stood And flourish'd, when his perishable part Had moulder'd dust to dust. That stately oak Itself hath moulder'd now, but Sidney's fame Lives and shall live, immortalized in song. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOW MY HEART SINKS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO ONE IN PARADISE by EDGAR ALLAN POE MISTS by WILLIMINA L. ARMSTRONG THE SKY-GYPSY by WALTER BARDECK TEMPER by CLARA EXLINE BOCKOVEN THE WANDERER: 5. IN HOLLAND: KING SOLOMON by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |