I, whom Apollo sometime visited, Or feigned to visit, now, my day being done, Do slumber wholly; nor shall know at all The weariness of changes; nor perceive Immeasurable sands of centuries Drink of the blanching ink, or the loud sound Of generations beat the music down. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WISE WOMAN by LOUIS UNTERMEYER WHEN THE KYE CAME HOME by JAMES HOGG UPON THE LATE LAMENTABLE ACCIDENT OF FIRE ... by JOHN ALLISON (1645-1683) THE ART OF PRESERVING HEALTH: BOOK 2. DIET by JOHN ARMSTRONG SONG: 2 by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 40. PANTHEISTIC DREAMS by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |