I for whom the world is a clear stream Of Beauty's holding, -- fashioned to reflect Her loveliness; a hollow cave perfect In echo, that her voice meet full esteem, Around me here are arching walls gold-decked, Of her grey children breathing forth their praise, I am an outcast, too strange to but raise One least harmonious whisper of respect. I am wild, uncouth; before the dream Thou givest me I stand weak in amaze, Or dare I lift one hand to serve, it lays All waste the very mesh I hold supreme. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AT DOVER CLIFFS, JULY 20, 1787 by WILLIAM LISLE BOWLES THESEUS, SELECTION by BACCHYLIDES WHAT DICK AN' I DID by WILLIAM BARNES FEMININE TALK by MAXWELL BODENHEIM JOHN MASEFIELD by AMY SHERMAN BRIDGMAN |