|
|
Classic and Contemporary Poetry
WHEREFORE, UNLAURELLED BOY, by GEORGE DARLEY Poet's Biography Last Line: Impart it to a solitary lyre | |||
WHEREFORE, unlaurelled Boy, Whom the contemptuous Muse will not inspire, With a sad kind of joy, Still sing'st thou to thy solitary lyre? The melancholy winds Pour through unnumbered reeds their idle woes, And every Naiad finds A stream to weep her sorrow as it flows. Her sighs unto the air The wood -maid's native oak doth broadly tell, And Echo's fond despair Intelligible rocks re-syllable. Wherefore then should not I, Albeit no haughty Muse my breast inspire, Fated of grief to die, Impart it to a solitary lyre? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest... |
| |