Whence comes that tender serenade As over the waters afar, Mingled with the strumming Of mandolin and guitar? Why this leaden heat Where orange-fragrance stirs, And why that curious crew Of white-cowled travelers? This woman, who is she, Who you might say is portrayed By old Tintoretto In her rich brocade? I recall now, I recall: They are yestergleams, They are garlands gone to dust, They are olden dreams. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LOCKED OUT; AS TOLD TO A CHILD by ROBERT FROST WE CAN'T WRITE OURSELVES INTO ETERNAL LIFE by DAVID IGNATOW DELUSION by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON ODE TO THE JOHNS HOPKINS UNIVERSITY by SIDNEY LANIER COUNTRYWOMEN by KATHERINE MANSFIELD DOMEDAY BOOK: JOHN CAMPBELL AND CARL EATON by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |