Have fair fallen, O fair, fair have fallen, so dear To me, no arch-especial a spirit as heaves in Henry Purcell, An age is now since passed, since parted, with the reversal Of the outlawed sentence low lays him, listed to a heresy, here. Not mood in him nor meaning, proud fire pr sacred fear, Or love or pity all that sweet notes not his might nurstle: It is the forged feature finds me, it is the rehearsal Of own, of abrupt self there so thrusts on, so throngs the ear. Let him Oh! with the air of angels then lift me, lay me! only I'll Have an eye to the sakes of him, quaint moonmarks, to his pelted plumage under Wings: so some great stormfowl, whenever he has walked his while The thunder-purple seabeach plumed purple-of-thunder, If a wuthering of his palmy snow-pinions scatter a colossal smile Off him, but meaning motion fans fresh our wits with wonder. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...INTERIM by CLARISSA SCOTT DELANY SONNET by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS THE ROSES ON THE TERRACE by ALFRED TENNYSON TO WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER NORTHERN LIGHTS by EINAR BENEDIKTSSON THE FAERY FOSTER-MOTHER by ROBERT WILLIAMS BUCHANAN ICH DIEN by GEORGE GORDON BYRON TO ---, ON HER OBSERVING THAT ST. VALENTINE'S DAY WAS HER BIRTHDAY by JOHN CHALK CLARIS |