OH, for a perfect sonnet of all time! Wild music, heralding immortal hopes, Strikes the bold prelude. To it from each clime, Like tropic birds on some green island slopes, Thoughts answering come, high metaphors, brave tropes, In ordered measure and majestic rhyme. And, presently, all hearts, kings', poets', popes', Throb to the truth of this new theme sublime. Anon 'tis reason speaks. A note of death Strengthens the symphony yet fraught with pain, And men seek meanings with abated breath, Vexing their souls,—till lo, once more, the strain Breaks through triumphant, and Love's master voice Thrills the last phrase and bids all joy rejoice. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ODES: BOOK 2: ODE 10. TO THOMAS EDWARDS, ON ... POPE'S WORKS by MARK AKENSIDE NATALIA'S RESURRECTION: 24 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE PLACE OF LOVE by S. C. BRACKETT M. T. W. by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN ON A REQUEST OF CHLORIS by ROBERT BURNS THE DESERTED PASTURE by BLISS CARMAN |