AT length thy golden hours have wing'd their flight, And drowsy death that eyelid steepeth; Thy harp, that whisper'd through each lingering night, Now mutely in oblivion sleepeth! She too, for whom that harp profusely shed The purest nectar of its numbers, She, the young spring of thy desires, has fled, And with her blest Anacreon slumbers! Farewell! thou hadst a pulse for every dart That Love could scatter from his quiver; And every woman found in thee a heart, Which thou, with all thy soul, didst give her! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CHARLOTTE CORDAY (REVOLUTIONARY TRIBUNAL, JULY 17, 1793) by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: WILLIAM AND EMILY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS A CHILD'S PRAYER [OR, HYMN] by MATILDA BARBARA BETHAM-EDWARDS THE TENTH MUSE: THE VANITY OF ALL WORLDLY THINGS by ANNE BRADSTREET THE CHURCH WINDOWS by GEORGE HERBERT THE BELLS OF YOUTH by WILLIAM SHARP ELEGIAC SONNET: 4. TO THE MOON by CHARLOTTE SMITH POEM FOR PICTURE: TO A PORTRAIT BY EDWARD STEICHEN (RACHMANINOFF) by FRANK ANKENBRAND JR. |