THE imperial Consort of the Fairy-king Owns not a sylvan bower; or gorgeous cell With emerald floored, and with purpureal shell Ceilinged and roofed; that is so fair a thing As this low structure, for the tasks of Spring, Prepared by one who loves the buoyant swell Of the brisk waves, yet here consents to dwell; And spreads in steadfast peace her brooding wing. Words cannot paint the o'ershadowing yew-tree bough, And dimly-gleaming Nest, -- a hollow crown Of golden leaves inlaid with silver down, Fine as the mother's softest plumes allow: I gazed -- and, self-accused while gazing, sighed For human-kind, weak slaves of cumbrous pride! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DIBDIN'S GHOST by EUGENE FIELD SIDNEY GODOLPHIN by CLINTON SCOLLARD ON THE DEATHS OF THOMAS CARLYLE AND GEORGE ELIOT by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE ALL THINGS CAN TEMPT ME by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE SUNFISH LAKE ROAD by BEATRICE MARY BILLING |