Power of the awful wind, whose hollow blast Hurls desolation wide, thy sway I hail! Thou o'er the scene around can'st beauties cast, Superior far to aught that Summer's gale Can, in the ripening year, to bloom awake; To view thy majesty, the cheerful tale, The dance, the festive song, I, pleased, forsake; And here, thy power and thy attractions own, Now the pale regent of thy splendid night Decks with her yellow rays thy snowy throne; Richly her beams on Summer's mantle light, Richly they gild chill Autumn's tawny vest But, ah! to me they shine more chastely bright, Spangling the icy robe that wraps thy breast. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SILLER CROUN by SUSANNA BLAMIRE A DIRGE (1) by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS TO THE WINDS; A SONG by PHILIP AYRES BRUCE: INTRODUCTION by JOHN BARBOUR RUSTIC CHILDHOOD by WILLIAM BARNES THE DEATH OF HAMPDEN by PAKENHAM THOMAS BEATTY THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 40. FAREWELL TO JULIET (2) by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT SUBJECT LOVE, FOR THE VASE AT BATHEASTON VILLA by JANE BOWDLER |