DARKNESS surrounds us; seeking, we are lost On Snowdon's wilds, amid Brigantian coves, Or where the solitary shepherd roves Along the plain of Sarum, by the ghost Of Time and shadows of Tradition, crost; And where the boatman of the Western Isles Slackens his course -- to mark those holy piles Which yet survive on bleak Iona's coast. Nor these, nor monuments of eldest name, Nor Taliesin's unforgotten lays, Nor characters of Greek or Roman fame, To an unquestionable Source have led; Enough -- if eyes, that sought the fountainhead In vain, upon the growing Rill may gaze. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A LITANY OF ATLANTA by WILLIAM EDWARD BURGHARDT DU BOIS A TERNARIE OF LITTLES, UPON A PIPKIN OF JELLIE by ROBERT HERRICK LITTLE ORPHANT ANNIE by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY THE BOATMAN by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE ROSE AND THE GAUNTLET by JOHN STERLING (1806-1844) MERCURY; ON LOSING MY POCKET MILTON AT LUSS NEAR BEN LOMOND by ROBERT ANDREWS COLORED HEROES, HARK THE BUGLE; POLITICAL by ROBERT CHARLES O'HARA BENJAMIN |