WITH no cold admiration do I gaze Upon thy pomp of waters, matchless stream! But home-sick fancy kindles with the beam That on thy lucid bosom faintly plays, And glides delighted through thy crystal ways, Till on her eye those wave-fed poplars gleam, Beneath whose shade her first ethereal maze She fashion'd; where she traced in clearest dream Thy mirror'd course of wood-enshrined repose Besprent with island haunts of spirits bright; And widening on -- till, at the vision's close, Great London, only then a name of might For childish thought to build on, proudly rose A rock-throned city clad in heavenly light. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OLD MEN ON THE COURTHOUSE LAWN, MURRAY, KENTUCKY by JAMES GALVIN THE FLAME LIGHTS UP by DAVID IGNATOW MIDDLE-AGED; A STUDY IN EMOTION by EZRA POUND DEDICATION TO THE LATER SONNETS TO URANIA by GEORGE SANTAYANA MANOKWARI, IRIAN JAYA; IN MEMORIAM, ALFRED RUSSEL WALLACE by KAREN SWENSON |