How are songs begot and bred? How do golden measures flow? From the heart, or from the head? Happy Poet, let me know. Tell me first how folded flowers Bud and bloom in vernal bowers; How the south wind shapes its tune, The harper, he, of June. None may answer, none may know, Winds and flowers come and go, And the selfsame canons bind Nature and the Poet's mind. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON THE RECEIPT OF MY MOTHER'S PICTURE [OUT OF NORFOLK] by WILLIAM COWPER THE CHILDREN by CHARLES MONROE DICKINSON A PRAISE OF HIS LADY by JOHN HEYWOOD AFTER THE NIGHT by NOUREDDIN ADDIS LOST AT SEA by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH A SPRING CAROL by ALFRED AUSTIN |