How shall I hew thee down, thou mighty bower? My summer-tent, my waving canopy? I love too well thy lithe submissive power, Thy silver beauty is too dear to me; At first, thou wert a little rose's prop, A new-cut willow wand, that did'st o'erbear Thy tiny nursling-plant; we took no care To check thee, nor thy lavish growth to lop, For thou art fair as any flower that blows; But though thou art so pleasant to mine eye, Methinks, each child of earth some sorrow knows, Akin to ours; long since that infant rose Droop'd ere its time, and bow'd its head to die, While thou hast soar'd aloft, to toss and sigh! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHITE AN' BLUE by WILLIAM BARNES RORY O'MORE; OR, ALL FOR GOOD LUCK by SAMUEL LOVER HOMAGE TO SEXTUS PROPERTIUS: 1 by EZRA POUND THE HAPPY DAYS WHEN I WER YOUNG by WILLIAM BARNES THE SECOND BROTHER; ACT 1, SCENE 2 by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE WANDERER: 1. IN ITALY: COUNT RINALDO RINALDI by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |