THROUGH shattered galleries, 'mid roofless halls, Wandering with timid footsteps oft betrayed, The Stranger sighs, nor scruples to upbraid Old Time, though he, gentlest among the Thralls Of Destiny, upon these wounds hath laid His lenient touches, soft as light that falls, From the wan Moon, upon the towers and walls, Light deepening the profoundest sleep of shade. Relic of Kings! Wreck of forgotten wars, To winds abandoned and the prying stars, Time 'loves' Thee! at his call the Seasons twine Luxuriant wreaths around thy forehead hoar; And, though past pomp no changes can restore, A soothing recompence, his gift, is thine! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HYMN TO MONT BLANC [IN THE VALE OF CHAMOUNI] by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE CONTRABAND by AVENELLE WILMETH BLAIR LITTLE WINDOWS by CHARLES GRANGER BLANDEN TO THE MOON by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD KATE'S MOTHER by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES THE LIBELLER'S SELF-REPROOF by ROBERT BURNS |