Awake, mine eyes! see Phoebus bright arising, And lesser lights to shades obscure descending. Glad Philomel sits, tunes of joy devising, Whilst in sweet notes From warbling throats The sylvan choir With like desire To her are echoes sending. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NOW AND AFTERWARDS by DINAH MARIA MULOCK CRAIK IN TENEBRIS: 2 by THOMAS HARDY IN HOSPITAL: 4. BEFORE by WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY NORTHBOUN' by LUCY ARIEL WILLIAMS AN OLD CASTLE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH ENCHANTED MACHINES by BERTON BRALEY THE PASSER-BY by ABBIE FARWELL BROWN |