I HEARD the piper playing, The piper old and blind, And knew its secret saying— The voice of the summer wind. I heard clear waters falling, Lapping from stone to stone; The wood-dove crying and calling, Ever alone, alone. I heard the bells of the heather Ring in the summer breeze, Soft stir of fur and feather And quiet hum of bees. The piper drew me yearning Into the dim grey lands, Whence there is no returning Although I wring my hands. There to the piper's crooning I saw my dead again, All in a happy nooning Of golden sun and rain. You piper, kind and hoary, Your pipes upon your knee, If I should tell my story, The things you piped for me, The folk would leave their selling And bid their buying go, If I could but be telling The things you let me know. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON A MAGAZINE SONNET by RUSSELL HILLARD LOINES THE OLD CLOCK ON THE STAIRS by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW FROLIC by GEORGE WILLIAM RUSSELL ADDRESS TO A CHILD DURING A BOISTEROUS WINTER EVENING by DOROTHY WORDSWORTH THE PROMETHEUS VINCTUS OF AESCHYLUS by AESCHYLUS THE PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION: BOOK 2 by MARK AKENSIDE THE OLD CAMP; WRITTEN IN A ROMAN FORTIFICATION IN BAVARIA by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN PROLOGUE TO THE PLAY OF HENRY THE EIGHTH by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |