Blake hither brought his book to con the sky, Commanding squadrons of the upper seas That streamed, impatient of Time's slow degrees, Their pennoned fleets of phantasy on high. O wing-shod Time, that we should bid thee fly! Five hundred years good Bishop Wykeham's trees Down there at New have known such lads as these, And they are patient still and standing by. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VARIATIONS: 12 by CONRAD AIKEN THEN AND NOW by CECIL DAY LEWIS SLEEPING TOGETHER by KATHERINE MANSFIELD THE BLACK MONKEY by KATHERINE MANSFIELD NEIGHBORS by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON LETTERS TO DEAD IMAGISTS by CARL SANDBURG THE GARDEN OF LOVE, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE THE VOICE OF THE ANCIENT BARD, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE |