IF, as the windes and waters here below Do flie and flow, My sighs and tears as busy were above, Sure they would move And much affect thee, as tempestuous times Amaze poore mortals, and object their crimes. Starres have their storms, ev'n in a high degree, As well as we. A throbbing conscience, spurred by remorse, Hath a strange force: It quits the earth, and, mounting more and more, Dares to assault thee, and besiege thy doore. There it stands knocking, to thy musicks wrong, And drowns the song. Glorie and honour are set by, till it An answer get. Poets have wrong'd poore storms: such dayes are best; They purge the aire without, within the breast. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FABRIC OF LIFE by KAY RYAN LINES WRITTEN IN KENSINGTON GARDENS by MATTHEW ARNOLD UP AT A VILLA - DOWN IN THE CITY by ROBERT BROWNING THE BOHEMIAN HYMN by RALPH WALDO EMERSON LATE LEAVES by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR THE INDIAN SERENADE by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY |