I LET my soul drift with the thistledown Afloat upon the honeymooning breeze; My thoughts about the swelling buds are blown, Blown with the golden dust of flowering trees. On fleeting gusts of desultory song, I let my soul drift out into the Spring; The Psyche flies and palpitates among The palpitating creatures on the wing. Go, happy Soul! run fluid in the wave, Vibrate in light, escape thy natal curse; Go forth no longer as my body-slave, But as the heir of all the Universe. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO E. T.: 1917 by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE SONNET: 19. ON HIS BLINDNESS by JOHN MILTON THE YOUNG MAY MOON by THOMAS MOORE SEVEN SAD SONNETS: 3. THE WANDERING ONE by MARY REYNOLDS ALDIS THE DEATH OF HUSS by ALFRED AUSTIN |