Not in these songs of thee do I caress My lyre, and utter amorous melodies,— Singing love-songs beneath blue facile skies Unstricken of storm, unversed in passion's stress. Nay, rather would I thunder through my lyre And mix my song with the tumultuous storm, If so I might the sons of men inspire And with my soul their listening souls inform! For thou art great: no queen of amorous ditty, But sweet, divine, a woman full of pity That crowneth woman, and of woman's might:— Queen of the proud untouched impassioned soul: Therefore for thee shall songs in thunders roll And peals reverberant the far ether smite! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SOUTH COUNTRY by HILAIRE BELLOC GOING AND STAYING by THOMAS HARDY THE IMAGE IN LAVA by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS A LETTER by PHILIP JAMES BAILEY A THOUGHT FOR MOTHER'S DAY by MAMIE COLLINS BARRY THE GOLDEN ODES OF PRE-ISLAMIC ARABIA: IBN KOLTHUM by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |