DEAR, if my secret wishes could have wings And you had need of aught for happiness, How would I fly to gather costly things In lands afar and blue seas fathomless! What buried gems; what long-drowned argosies; What secrets shut in passionate lute-strings; What dust of martyrs agonised in bliss; What broken sceptres in the hands of Kings! How would I fashion these for your delight In tales of grief and love for ever young, Till you too dreamed: But that my sluggard wit Falters and time is heavy on my tongue, And that you scorn all dreams but the sole right Of your soul's truth triumphant over wrong. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A BALLAD OF SARSFIELD; OR, THE BURSTING OF THE GUNS by AUBREY THOMAS DE VERE TO THE MEMORY OF MR. OLDHAM by JOHN DRYDEN EXCELSIOR by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW HOLYHEAD, SEPTEMBER 25, 1727 by JONATHAN SWIFT THE VOICE IN THE GLOAMING by WILLIAM ALLAN CORRESPONDENCES by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 42 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |