Love of nest and mate and young Woke the music of his tongue, While upon the fledgling's brain Soft it fell as scattered grain, There to blossom tone for tone Into echoes of his own. Doth the passion wholly die When the fountainhead is dry? Nay, as vapor from the sea Lives the dream eternally; Soon the silent clouds again Melt in rhapsodies of rain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON THE PROPOSAL TO ERECT A MONUMENT IN ENGLAND TO LORD BYRON by EMMA LAZARUS WAR VERSE (1914) by EZRA POUND A SPINSTER'S STINT by ALICE CARY THE TASK: BOOK 4. THE WINTER EVENING by WILLIAM COWPER IT COULDN'T BE DONE by EDGAR ALBERT GUEST |