THOUGH short her strain nor sung with mighty boast, Yet there the power of song had dwelling-room; So lives her name for ever, nor lies lost Beneath the shadow of the wings of gloom, While bards of after days, in countless host, Slumber and fade forgotten in the tomb. Better the swan's brief note than thousand cries Of rooks in springtime blown about the skies. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE COLORED BAND by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR EPITAPHS OF THE WAR, 1914-18: A DRIFTER OFF TARENTUM by RUDYARD KIPLING ROSE AYLMER by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR TO JOHN KEATS; SONNET by AMY LOWELL THE GARDEN OF PROSERPINE by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE THE SUPLIANTS: IO. CHORUS by AESCHYLUS MEROPE; A TRAGEDY by MATTHEW ARNOLD THE LAY OF SAINT MEDARD; A LEGEND OF AFRIC by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |