The fairest, brightest, hues of ether fade; The sweetest notes must terminate and die; O Friend! thy flute has breathed a harmony Softly resounded through this rocky glade; Such strains of rapture as the Genius played In his still haunt on Bagdad's summit high; He who stood visible to Mirza's eye, Never before to human sight betrayed. Lo, in the vale, the mists of evening spread! The visionary Arches are not there, Nor the green Islands, nor the shining Seas; Yet sacred is to me this Mountain's head, Whence I have risen, uplifted on the breeze Of harmony, above all earthly care. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO THE LADY IN THE CHIMSETTE WITH BLACK BUTTONS by NATHANIEL PARKER WILLIS INVOCATION TO SLEEP by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH BURNING STRAWPILES by EVA K. ANGLESBURG OUT OF THE HILLS by IRENE ARCHER FOUR SONNETS: 3 by FRANK DAVIS ASHBURN |