I HE measures all the drops with wondrous skill, Which the black clouds, His floating bottles, fill. II Didst Thou one end of air's wide curtain hold, And help the bales of ether to unfold? Say, which cærulean pile was by Thy hand unroll'd? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ISN'T IT ROMANTIC by KAREN SWENSON THE SPANISH FRIAR: 1-3. LOVE'S DESPAIR by JOHN DRYDEN TO SIR HENRY GOODYERE by BEN JONSON ECLOGUE: THE 'LOTMENTS by WILLIAM BARNES MIDNIGHT FIRES by GORDON BOTTOMLEY WARNING AND REPLY by EMILY JANE BRONTE COLLEGE NIGHT by CHRISTINE TURNER CURTIS |