HARP of wild and dream-like strain, When I touch thy strings, Why dost thou repeat again Long-forgotten things? Harp, in other earlier days I could sing to thee, And not one of all my lays Vexed my memory. But now if I awake a note That gave me joy before, Sounds of sorrow from thee float, Changing evermore. Yet still steeped in memory's dyes They come sailing on, Darkening all my summer skies, Shutting out my sun | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE COLD NIGHT by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THE CAPTIVE LION by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES SONNET: 23. ON HIS DECEASED WIFE by JOHN MILTON THE MEETING OF THE WATERS by THOMAS MOORE THE VALLEY OF UNREST (2) by EDGAR ALLAN POE INDEPENDENCE DAY by ROYALL TYLER ODES: BOOK 1: ODE 9. TO CURIO by MARK AKENSIDE |