YOU ask us if by rule or no Our many-colored songs are wrought: Upon the cunning loom of thought, We weave our fancies, so and so. The busy shuttle comes and goes Across the rhymes, and deftly weaves A tissue out of autumn leaves, With here a thistle, there a rose. With art and patience thus is made The poet's perfect Cloth of Gold: When woven so, nor moth nor mould Nor time can make its colors fade. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LIFE [AND DEATH] by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD ON THE MEMORABLE VICTORY OF PAUL JONES by PHILIP FRENEAU A TERNARIE OF LITTLES, UPON A PIPKIN OF JELLIE by ROBERT HERRICK THE SHADED WATER by WILLIAM GILMORE SIMMS SPRING'S UNFOLDING by IRENE ARCHER THE GATES OF PARADISE; FOR THE SEXES by WILLIAM BLAKE THE FAIREST HE by HORATIO (HORATIUS) BONAR |