What is poetry? Is it a mosaic Of coloured stones which curiously are wrought Into a pattern? Rather glass that's taught By patient labor any hue to take And glowing with a sumptuous splendor, make Beauty a thing of awe; where sunbeams caught, Transmuted fall in sheafs of rainbows fraught With storied meaning for religion's sake. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FISHERMAN IN SONGKHLA by KAREN SWENSON THE CUMBERLAND [MARCH 8, 1862] by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW TO F - (MRS. FRANCES SARGENT OSGOOD) by EDGAR ALLAN POE GREAT BELL ROLAND; SUGGESTED BY PRESIDENT'S CALL VOLUNTEERS by THEODORE TILTON DRUG STORE by JOHN VAN ALSTYN WEAVER |