Our story is noble and tragic As a tyrant's mask; No dangerous drama or magic; No detail unpoetic Makes our love-dream pathetic. And Thomas De Quincey drinking His opiate hippocras Of his poor Ann wandered thinking Let us pass, since all things pass I shall return at my ease. Memories are hunting horns Whose sound dies on the breeze. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...I LOOKED FOR LIFE AND DID A SHADOW SEE by JAMES GALVIN AQUATINT FRAMED IN GOLD by AMY LOWELL I PAY MY DEBT FOR LAFAYETTE AND ROCHAMBEAU' by EDGAR LEE MASTERS A MAN CHILD IS BORN (1839) by EDGAR LEE MASTERS A GIRL'S THOUGHTS by ISAAC ROSENBERG |