WHERE laps the breeze, the ever-rustling tree, Where the cool stream flows gay and free, If there my lady is, there would I be, My lady. Where winter roars and storms vindictive fly, And hurl deep thunders from a deeper sky, If there my lady be, there would be I, My lady. For what to me is tropic heat intense, Or frigid winter, awful, dark, and dense, When mocking eyes still keep me in suspense? My lady. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DEEP IN THE NIGHT by SARA TEASDALE WINTER NIGHT by CH'IEN WEN OF LIANG THE HUMBLE-BEE by RALPH WALDO EMERSON THE OLD CLOCK ON THE STAIRS by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW EPITAPH INTENDED FOR SIR ISAAC NEWTON, IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY by ALEXANDER POPE |