THOUGH I may rest in some leafy place, And read, through the summer day, Thy pages penned in the busy town, -- So busy and far away -- Though hills stretch out, and sunlight falls On acres of swelling land, I seem to span the misty miles Between us, and clasp thy hand; For thou hast bound with magic chain, The vagrant thoughts I chased in vain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE COLOR SERGEANT by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON TO MY DEAR FRIEND, MR. CONGREVE, ON HIS COMEDY, 'THE DOUBLE-DEALER' by JOHN DRYDEN IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 30 by ALFRED TENNYSON CRY WOE, WOE, AND LET THE GOOD PREVAIL, FR. AGAMEMNON by AESCHYLUS |