Classic and Contemporary Poetry
LINES WRITTEN IN HIGHLANDS AFTER A VISIT TO BURNS'S COUNTRY, by JOHN KEATS Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: There is a charm in footing slow across a silent plain Last Line: And keep his vision clear from speck, his inward sight unblind. Subject(s): Burns, Robert (1759-1796); Poetry & Poets; Scotland | ||||||||
THERE is a charm in footing slow across a silent plain, Where patriot battle has been fought, where glory had the gain; There is a pleasure on the heath where Druids old have been, Where mantles grey have rustled by and swept the nettles green; There is a joy in every spot made known by times of old, New to the feet, although each tale a hundred times be told; There is a deeper joy than all, more solemn in the heart, More parching to the tongue than all, of more divine a smart, When weary steps forget themselves upon a pleasant turf, Upon hot sand, or flinty road, or sea-shore iron scurf, Toward the castle or the cot, where long ago was born One who was great through mortal days, and died of fame unshorn, Light heather-bells may tremble then, but they are far away; Wood-lark may sing from sandy fern,--the Sun may hear his lay; Runnels may kiss the grass on shelves and shallows clear, But their low voices are not heard, though come on travels drear; Blood-red the Sun may set behind black mountain peaks; Blue tides may sluice and drench their time in caves and weedy creeks; Eagles may seem to sleep wing-wide upon the air; Ring-doves may fly convuls'd across to some high-cedar'd lair; But the forgotten eye is still fast lidded to the ground, As Palmer's, that with weariness, mid-desert shrine hath found. At such a time the soul's a child, in childhood is the brain; Forgotten is the worldly heart--alone, it beats in vain.-- Aye, if a madman could have leave to pass a healthful day To tell his forehead's swoon and faint when first began decay, He might make tremble many a one whose spirit had gone forth To find a Bard's low cradle-place about the silent North! Scanty the hour and few the steps beyond the bourn of care, Beyond the sweet and bitter world,--beyond it unaware! Scanty the hour and few the steps, because a longer stay Would bar return, and make a man forget his mortal way: O horrible! to lose the sight of well remember'd face, Of Brother's eyes, of Sister's brow--constant to every place; Filling the air, as on we move, with portraiture intense; More warm than those heroic tints that pain a painter's sense, When shapes of old come striding by, and visages of old, Locks shining black, hair scanty grey, and passions manifold. No, no, that horror cannot be, for at the cable's length Man feels the gentle anchor pull and gladdens in its strength:-- One hour, half-idiot, he stands by mossy waterfall, But in the very next he reads his soul's memorial:-- He reads it on the mountain's height, where chance he may sit down Upon rough marble diadem--that hill's eternal crown. Yet be his anchor e'er so fast, room is there for a prayer That man may never lose his mind on mountains black and bare; That he may stray league after league some great birthplace to find And keep his vision clear from speck, his inward sight unblind. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SCOTLAND'S WINTER by EDWIN MUIR ELEGY ASKING THAT IT BE THE LAST; FOR INGRID ERHARDT, 1951-1971 by NORMAN DUBIE FUSELAGE INSTALLATION by JUAN FELIPE HERRERA SHOOTING SEASON; IN THE NORTH OF SCOTLAND by ROBINSON JEFFERS IN JOHN UPDIKE'S ROOM by CHRISTOPHER WISEMAN THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN THE HEART OF THE BRUCE by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN ROBERT BRUCE'S ADDRESS TO HIS ARMY BEFORE BANNOCKBURN by ROBERT BURNS A DREAM, AFTER READING DANTE'S EPISODE OF PAULO & FRANCESCA by JOHN KEATS |
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