ROMANCE beside his unstrung lute, Lies stricken mute. The old-time fire, the antique grace, You will not find them anywhere. To-day we breathe a commonplace, Polemic, scientific air: We strip Illusion of her veil; We vivisect the nightingale To probe the secret of his note. The Muse in alien ways remote Goes wandering. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON ANOTHER'S SORROW, FR. SONGS OF INNOCENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE AGAINST HOPE by ABRAHAM COWLEY IN HARDWOOD GROVES by ROBERT FROST SAILING BEYOND SEAS (OLD STYLE) by JEAN INGELOW AFTER THE PLEASURE PARTY by HERMAN MELVILLE A MORTIFYING MISTAKE by ANNA MARIA PRATT |