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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
TO MY BROOKLET, by JEAN FRANCOIS DUCIS First Line: Thou brooklet, all unknown to song Last Line: And hear the lapwing's plaintive cry? | |||
Thou brooklet, all unknown to song, Hid in the covert of the wood! Ah, yes, like thee I fear the throng, Like thee I love the solitude. O brooklet, let my sorrows past Lie all forgotten in their graves, Till in my thoughts remain at last Only thy peace, thy flowers, thy waves. The lily by thy margin waits;-- The nightingale, the marguerite; In shadow here he meditates His nest, his love, his music sweet. Near thee the self-collected soul Knows naught of error or of crime; Thy waters, murmuring as they roll, Transform his musings into rhyme. Ah, when, on bright autumnal eves, Pursuing still thy course, shall I Lisp the soft shudder of the leaves, And hear the lapwing's plaintive cry? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO MY HOUSEHOLD GODS by JEAN FRANCOIS DUCIS THE CHANT OF THE VULTURES by EDWIN MARKHAM JOHANNA PEDERSEN by KAREN SWENSON A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 48 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 1ST SERIES: 1 by EDWARD TAYLOR WHAT THE BIRDS SAID by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER THE VEERY'S FLUTE by LUCY BRANCH ALLEN |
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