O THOU angelic spirit, face, and voice, Sweet Syren, whose soft notes our souls rejoice, Yet when thou dost recite some tragic verse, Thy tone and action make it sweetly fierce. If thou soft, loud, sad or brisk note dost hit, It carries still our hearts along with it; Thou canst heat, cool, grieve us, or make us smile Nay, stab or kill, yet hurt us not the while. Thy gesture, shape, and mien, so pleasing are, With thee, no human being can compare; Thy passions, all our passions do excite, And thy feign'd grief does real tears invite. List'ning to thee, our bodies seem as dead, For our rapt souls then up to Heav'n are fled; So great a Monarch art thou, that thy breath Has power to give us either Life, or Death. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ELIOT'S OAK; SONNET by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW TO A LADY: SHE REFUSING TO CONTINUE A DISPUTE WITH ME by MATTHEW PRIOR IDYLLS OF THE KING: THE LAST TOURNAMENT by ALFRED TENNYSON THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS by MARIA ABDY LINES TO MR. WYNCH ON HIS FORTH-FIFTH BIRTHDAY by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE VISION OF THE ARCHANGELS by RUPERT BROOKE |