He lived amidst the untrodden ways To Rydal Lake that lead; A bard whom there were none to praise, And very few to read. Behind a cloud his mystic sense, Deep hidden, who can spy? Bright as the night when not a star Is shining in the sky. Unread his works --his "Milk White Doe' With dust is dark and dim; It's still in Longman's shop, and oh! The difference to him! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FORMALITY AND THE SOUL: 1. JOHN SINGER SARGENT by KARL W. BIGELOW THE LOST PLEAID by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD TO EDWARD FITZGERALD by ROBERT BROWNING THE LAST RODEO by LILLIAN CAROLINE CANFIELD ON THE DEATH OF MRS. [ELIZABETH] ROWE by ELIZABETH CARTER |