Straight remnant, of the spiry birchen bough, That o'er the streamlet wont perchance to quake Thy many twinkling leaves, and, bending low, Beheld thy white rind dancing on the lake -- How doth thy present state, poor stick! awake My pathos -- for, alas! even stript as thou May be my beating breast, if e'er forsake Philisto this poor heart; and break his vow. So musing on I fare, with many a sigh, And meditating then on times long past. To thee, lorn pole! I look with tearful eye, As all beside the floor-soiled pail thou'rt cast, And my sad thoughts, while I behold thee twirled, Turn on the twistings of this troublous world. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VISION OF BELSHAZZAR by GEORGE GORDON BYRON THE GARDEN YEAR by SARA COLERIDGE REVELATION by EDMUND WILLIAM GOSSE HYMN FOR EPIPHANY by REGINALD HEBER HERO AND LEANDER by CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE THE SWAMP ANGEL by HERMAN MELVILLE THE COMPLAINT OF CHASTITIE by RICHARD BARNFIELD CLIO, NINE ECLOGUES IN HONOUR OF NINE VIRTUES: 1. TRUE AND CHASTE LOVE by WILLIAM BASSE |