THERE's a wild harp, which unconfined by rule Of science, varies with the varying air, And sympathizes with the free-born wind; Swelling, whenever the tempest swells, or sad When the soft western-breeze in moans goes down, And sighs, and dies away. 'T is sweet to mark Its tone, and listen in some musing mood To it strange cadence. Be your music such, And let it die at sundown if you please. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FABLE: THE MOUNTAIN AND THE SQUIRREL by RALPH WALDO EMERSON BARNEY'S INVITATION by PHILIP FRENEAU WRINKLES by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR AS THE GREEK'S SIGNAL FLAME by WALT WHITMAN PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 27. AS-SAMI'H by EDWIN ARNOLD HIDDEN JOYS by SAMUEL LAMAN BLANCHARD |