I made a slow lament for you, lost magic Of schoolboy love and dreams in shadowed places, Where passed in visible parade, the tragic Desires of vanished gods and women's faces. On violins beneath long, undisputed New England orchards sombred by the spirit Of endless autumn, I awoke the muted Strings of your lament, but none could hear it, Except, perhaps, one passerby, who skirted The upland fields in that avoided spot; And, marveling at the music in deserted Orchards, hurried on, and soon forgot. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE EUMENIDES: CHORUS by AESCHYLUS THREE PASTORAL ELEGIES: 3 by WILLIAM BASSE ENCHANTED MACHINES by BERTON BRALEY MASQUE AT THE MARRIAGE OF THE EARL OF SOMERSET: ETERNITY SINGS ALONE by THOMAS CAMPION THE ROUGH TYKES O' TARLAND by JAMES CHAPMAN EFFECT OF ORATORY UPON A MULTITUDE by GEORGE CROLY SIR MARTIN MARR-ALL: SONG by JOHN DRYDEN CEILED HOUSES; A MESSAGE FOR THESE TIMES by WILLIAM ARTHUR DUNKERLEY |