What fancy, or what flight of wingéd thought, O lady of my heart, hast thou to chime Accordant with the flow of my poor rhyme? Have my strange songs a dearer solace brought Than those remembered lays thy childhood caught, And treasured safely through disloyal time— Lays of a sweeter tongue and fairer clime; Pure as thy dreams, before our passion sought And won the shadowy realm, and steeped thy sleep In fiery visions and terrific throes Of self-consuming love? My songs are foes To peace and thee; yet thou dost bid me sweep The torturing strings, although thy eyelids weep: Find'st thou a pleasure in thy very woes? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE NIGHT SONG by MARY DELL ALLEN ON GOOD FRIDAY, THE DAY OF OUR SAVIOUR'S PASSION by PHILIP AYRES PLORATA VERIS LACHRYMIS by WILLIAM BARNES JUDGES: SONG OF DEBORAH; FRAGMENTS by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE THREE MINUS ONE (REFRAIN SUGGESTED BY DR. RICHARD HOFFMAN) by BERTON BRALEY MACPHERSON'S [OR M'PHERSON'S] FAREWELL by ROBERT BURNS |