ROMANCE beside his unstrung lute, Lies stricken mute. The old-time fire, the antique grace, You will not find them anywhere. To-day we breathe a commonplace, Polemic, scientific air: We strip Illusion of her veil; We vivisect the nightingale To probe the secret of his note. The Muse in alien ways remote Goes wandering. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VLAMERTINGHE: PASSING THE CHATEAU, JULY 1917 by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN DE PROFUNDIS by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING IN A GONDOLA by ROBERT BROWNING THE DEATH OF THE HIRED MAN by ROBERT FROST THE MAUSOLEUM by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN PSALM 140 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE |