AS often as I murmur here My half-formed melodies, Straight from her osier mansion near, The Turtledove replies: Though silent as a leaf before, The captive promptly coos; Is it to teach her own soft lore, Or second my weak Muse? I rather think, the gentle Dove Is murmuring a reproof, Displeased that I from lays of love Have dared to keep aloof; That I, a Bard of hill and dale, Have carolled, fancy free, As if nor dove nor nightingale, Had heart or voice for me. If such thy meaning, O forbear, Sweet Bird! to do me wrong; Love, blessed Love, is everywhere The spirit of my song: 'Mid grove, and by the calm fireside, Love animates my lyre -- That coo again! -- 'tis not to chide, I feel, but to inspire. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN THE NEOLITHIC AGE by RUDYARD KIPLING ROSE AYLMER by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR THE BROOKLYN BRIDGE [MAY 24, 1883] by EDNA DEAN PROCTOR LINES ON THE MONUMENT OF GIUSEPPE MAZZINI by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE WITH A NANTUCKET SHELL by CHARLES HENRY WEBB THE FOUR SEASONS by PHILIP AYRES THE LAST DEMAND by FAITH BALDWIN CLIO, NINE ECLOGUES IN HONOUR OF NINE VIRTUES: 5. OF TEMPERANCE by WILLIAM BASSE |