I dream'd there would be Spring no more, That Nature's ancient power was lost; The streets were black with smoke and frost, They chatter'd trifles at the door; I wander'd from the noisy town, I found a wood with thorny boughs; I took the thorns to bind my brows, I wore them like a civic crown; I met with scoffs, I met with scorns From youth and babe and hoary hairs: They call'd me in the public squares The fool that wears a crown of thorns. They call'd me fool, they call'd me child: I found an angel of the night; The voice was low, the look was bright; He look'd upon my crown and smiled. He reach'd the glory of a hand, That seem'd to touch it into leaf; The voice was not the voice of grief, The words were hard to understand. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SHANNON AND THE CHESAPEAKE [JUNE 1, 1813] by THOMAS TRACY BOUVE DEJECTION by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES THE MOTHER WATCH by EDGAR ALBERT GUEST A RONDEL OF LUVE [LOVE] by ALEXANDER SCOTT (1520-1590) SONNET: BARBERRIES by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH TO MRS. ANN FLAXMAN by WILLIAM BLAKE TO A CHILD, THE DAUGHTER OF A FRIEND by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD |