How cold are thy baths, Apollo! Cried the African monarch, the splendid, As down to his death in the hollow Dark dungeons of Rome he descended, Uncrowned, unthroned, unattended; How cold are thy baths, Apollo! How cold are thy baths, Apollo! Cried the Poet, unknown, unbefriended, As the vision, that lured him to follow, With the mist and the darkness blended, And the dream of his life was ended; How cold are thy baths, Apollo! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BRER RABBIT, YOU'S DE CUTES' OF 'EM ALL by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE GARDEN OF ADONIS by EMMA LAZARUS MONODY ON THE DEATH OF WILLIAM MARION REEDY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS LANCELOT by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE GREAT HUNT by CARL SANDBURG ELEGY: THE LAMENT OF EDWARD BLASTOCK; FOR RICHARD ROWLEY by EDITH SITWELL |