A GOLDEN service, most loveworthy yoke, Thou, O my pipe, imposest, when thy bowl Alternate dusks and quickens like a coal At every inhalation of sweet smoke. Thou, thrifty farmer of the mind o'erbraced, Dost clear a stage for fancy's puppet folk, And giv'st rich fallow seasons to the soul, Moods soft as sleep that me could wake to taste. Therefore to thee the incense do I pour Of one white volley, that around my head Weaves fragrant circlets ere it spreads to nought: This service do I pay thee, thus adore The healing power in thy soft office shed To dull old griefs and ease harassing thought. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE VOYAGE TO VINLAND: 3. GUDRIDA'S PROPHECY by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL A CONSECRATION by JOHN MASEFIELD AN UNTIMELY THOUGHT by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH JOHN MAYNARD by HORATIO ALGER JR. PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 61. AL-MO'HYI by EDWIN ARNOLD OUR CLUB by SYLVIA DILLAVOU BARCLAY |