In a little house keep I pictures suspended, it is not a fix'd house, It is round, it is only a few inches from one side to the other; Yet behold, it has room for all the shows of the world, all memories! Here the tableaus of life, and here the groupings of death; Here, do you know this? this is cicerone himself, With finger rais'd he points to the prodigal pictures. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE PLANTING OF THE APPLE TREE by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT WAR IS KIND: 12 by STEPHEN CRANE THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 50. WILLOWWOOD (2) by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI FLORENTINE INGRATITUDE by WILLIAM BLAKE THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 50. FAREWELL TO JULIET (12) by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT EDGE OF THE DAY by BURL BREDON PARLEYINGS WITH CERTAIN PEOPLE OF IMPORTANCE: CHARLES AVISON by ROBERT BROWNING |