Methought I lived in the icy times forlorn; And, with a fond forecasting love and pride, I hung o'er frozen England: - 'When,' I cried, 'When will the island or our hopes be born? When will our fields be seen, our church-bells heard? And Avon, Doon, and Tweed break forth in song? This blank unstoried ice be warm'd and stirr'd And Thames, and Clyde, and Humber roll along To a free sea-board? airs of paradise Instal our summer and our flowery springs, And lift the larks, and land the nightingales? And this wild alien unfamiliar Wales Melt home among her harps? and vernal skies Thaw out old Dover for the houseless kings?' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ALL FOOLS' CALENDER by DONALD (GRADY) DAVIDSON STALKING LEMURS by KAREN SWENSON BIANCA AMONG THE NIGHTINGALES by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE EARLY PRIMROSE by HENRY KIRKE WHITE THE INDIGNANT CAPTAIN OF INDUSTRY by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS |