I DROPPED my pen; and listened to the Wind That sang of trees uptorn and vessels tost -- A midnight harmony; and wholly lost To the general sense of men by chains confined Of business, care, or pleasure; or resigned To timely sleep. Thought I, the impassioned strain, Which, without aid of numbers, I sustain, Like acceptation from the World will find. Yet some with apprehensive ear shall drink A dirge devoutly breathed o'er sorrows past; And to the attendant promise will give heed -- The prophecy, -- like that of this wild blast, Which, while it makes the heart with sadness shrink, Tells also of bright calms that shall succeed. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...APRIL, 1885 by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES THE CHRONICLE; A BALLAD by ABRAHAM COWLEY ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 7 by PHILIP SIDNEY THE BIRDS: THE HOOPOE'S CALL TO THE BIRDS by ARISTOPHANES THE ARID LANDS by HERBERT BASHFORD TO ELIZABETH by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE TO PERCY BUCK by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES |