WHITHER is gone the wisdom and the power That ancient sages scatter'd with the notes Of thought-suggesting lyres? The music floats In the void air; e'en at this breathing hour, In every cell and every blooming bower The sweetness of old lays is hovering still: But the strong soul, the self-constraining will, The rugged root that bare the winsome flower Is weak and wither'd. Were we like the Fays That sweetly nestle in the foxglove bells, Or lurk and murmur in the rose-lipp'd shells Which Neptune to the earth for quit-rent pays, Then might our pretty modern Philomels Sustain our spirits with their roundelays. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE HEMP (A VIRGINIA LEGEND) by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET THE FEAST OF LIGHTS by EMMA LAZARUS ON CARPACCIO'S PICTURE: THE DREAM OF ST. URSALA; SONNET by AMY LOWELL IN WALKED BUD WITH A PALETTE by CLARENCE MAJOR SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: WILLIAM JONES by EDGAR LEE MASTERS BALLADE OF DEAD FRIENDS by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON |