ALTHOUGH crowds gathered once if she but showed her face, And even old men's eyes grew dim, this hand alone, Like some last courtier at a gypsy camping-place Babbling of fallen majesty, records what's gone. The lineaments, a heart that laughter has made sweet, These, these remain, but I record what's gone. A crowd Will gather, and not know it walks the very street Whereon a thing once walked that seemed a burning cloud. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON CRITICS; IN IMITATION OF ANACREON by MATTHEW PRIOR THE BAYADERE by FRANCIS SALTUS SALTUS TO THE DAISY (2) by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH SONNET: TO L.T. IN FLORENCE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE SNAIL by ANTOINE VINCENT ARNAULT |