For vacant song behold a shining theme! These dumb-struck flutterers from Indian land, The colour on whose crests, sweet Nature's hand, Fulfils our richest thought of crimson gleam; Whose wings, thus spread and balanced forth, might seem Slender as serpent's tongue or fairy's wand -- And, as with vantage of the sun we stand, Each glossy bosom kindles in his beam; Ah me! how soon does human death impair The tender beauty of the fairest face, Whatever balms and unguents we prepare! While these replendent creatures bear no trace, Bright-bosom'd and bright-crested as they are, No soil, nor token of the tomb's disgrace! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CONQUEROR'S GRAVE by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT THE OTHER SIDE OF A MIRROR by MARY ELIZABETH COLERIDGE STRANGE MEETING by WILFRED OWEN DOWN BY THE SALLEY GARDENS by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE VIERZIDE CHAIRS by WILLIAM BARNES URANIA; THE WOMAN IN THE MOON: THE SECOND CANTO, OR FIRST QUARTER by WILLIAM BASSE INTIMATE VISION by JOSEPHINE BATES |