Mute thy strings, O Israfel: Quenched thy fire, and shrouded low Men who marvelled at the spell And the weird but dream borne glow Of thy master song. Israfel, no singers rise Who can lift thy laurel crown, Thou alone to glory rise -- Star of England's fair renown And the dusk man's hope. When the Master came thou heard Music woven of the night, And, as soars a fleet winged bird, Thou in melody made flight To the Throne of God. Will the meadows bloom again? Will the lark in passion song Lead us to his leafy den? Will the day remain as long? Israfel has gone. Live to sing as he has sung, Live to know the heart of God, Live to speak an angel tongue And to kiss the moistened sod O'er our Israfel. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FIDDLING WOOD by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET STREET-CRIES: 7. A SONG OF LOVE by SIDNEY LANIER THE HARD TIMES IN ELFLAND; A STORY OF CHRISTMAS EVE by SIDNEY LANIER SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: ELIZABETH CHILDERS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |