IF thy soul, Herrick, dwelt with me, This is what my songs would be: Hints of our sea-breezes, blent With odors from the Orient; Indian vessels deep with spice; Star-showers from the Norland ice; Wine-red jewels that seem to hold Fire, but only burn with cold; Antique goblets, strangely wrought, Filled with the wine of happy thought; Bridal measures, vain regrets, Laburnum buds and violets; Hopeful as the break of day; Clear as crystal; new as May; Musical as brooks that run O'er yellow shallows in the sun; Soft as the satin fringe that shades The eyelids of thy fragrant maids; Brief as thy lyrics, Herrick, are, And polished as the bosom of a star. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LABORS OF HERCULES by MARIANNE MOORE SONG BEFORE SORROW by LOUISE A. BALDWIN SEEING A STRANGE WOMAN DEAD by A. G. BECKMANN SONG OF OWL'S HEAD by NORMAN WILLIAMS BINGHAM PRELUDE TO THE NANTAHALAS by BARBARA BOWEN THE CHRISTENING by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN THE WANDERER: PROLOGUE. PART 1 by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |