THOUGH short her strain nor sung with mighty boast, Yet there the power of song had dwelling-room; So lives her name for ever, nor lies lost Beneath the shadow of the wings of gloom, While bards of after days, in countless host, Slumber and fade forgotten in the tomb. Better the swan's brief note than thousand cries Of rooks in springtime blown about the skies. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON LADY POLTAGRUE: A PUBLIC PERIL by HILAIRE BELLOC TROILUS AND CRESSIDA: SONG by JOHN DRYDEN DIRGE (1) by RALPH WALDO EMERSON MORTAL JEALOUSY by PHILIP AYRES A VOYAGE TO CYTHERA by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE FASHION; A DIALOGUE by JAMES HAY BEATTIE ETHINTHUS, QUEEN OF WATERS by WILLIAM BLAKE |