FORGIVE what I, adventuring highest themes, Have spoiled and darkened, and the awkward hand That longed to point the moral of man's dreams And shut the wicket-gates of fairyland: So by too harsh intrusion Left colourless confusion. For even the glories that I most revered, Seen through a gloomed perspective in strange mood, Were not what to our British seers appeared; I spoke of peace, I made a solitude, Herding with deathless graces My hobbling commonplaces. Forgive that eyeless lethargy which chilled Your ardours and I fear dimmed much fine gold -- What your bright passion, leaping ages, thrilled To find and claim, and I yet dared withhold; These and all chance offences Against your finer senses. And I will ever pray for your souls' health, Remembering how, deep-tasked yet eager-eyed, You loved imagination's commonwealth, Following with smiling wonder a frail guide Who bears beyond the ocean The voice of your devotion. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WITH CHAOS IN EACH KISS by TIMOTHY LIU WINGED MAN by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET SONNET: OF THREE GIRLS AND OF THEIR TALK by GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO ON THE ROAD by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR TO AN INSECT by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN: THE THIRD DAY: AZRAEL by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW |