HE sits above the clang and dust of Time, With the world's secret trembling on his lip. He asks not converse or companionship In the cold starlight where thou canst not climb. The undelivered tidings in his breast Suffer him not to rest. He sees afar the immemorable throng, And binds the scattered ages with a song. The glorious riddle of his rhythmic breath, His might, his spell, we know not what they be: We only feel, whate'er he uttereth, This savours not of death, This hath a relish of eternity. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO A CYCLAMEN by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR BORDER BALLAD [OR MARCH, OR SONG], FR. THE MONASTERY by WALTER SCOTT THE SISTER'S TRAGEDY by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH IN ANSWER TO QUESTION FROM GREEK GRAMMAR: WHAT FUTURES SPEAK by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD SONNET: 19 by RICHARD BARNFIELD LES BARICADES MISTERIEUSES (AFTER FRANCOIS COUPERIN) by GORDON BOTTOMLEY |