O transient voyager of heaven! O silent sign of winter skies! What adverse wind thy sail has driven To dungeons where a prisoner lies? Methinks the hands that shut the sun So sternly from this mourning brow Might still their rebel task have done And checked a thing so frail as thou They would have done it had they known The talisman that dwelt in thee, For all the suns that ever shone Have never been so kind to me! For many a week, and many a day My heart was weighed with sinking gloom When morning rose in mourning grey And faintly lit my prison room, But angel like, when I awoke, Thy silvery form so soft and fair Shining through darkness, sweetly spoke Of cloudy skies and mountains bare The dearest to a mountaineer Who, all life long has loved the snow That crowned her native summits drear, Better, than greenest plains below -- And voiceless, soulless messenger Thy presence waked a thrilling tone That comforts me while thou art here And will sustain when thou art gone | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DYING SWAN by THOMAS STURGE MOORE FOUND' (FOR A PICTURE) by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE BIRDS: THE HOOPOE'S CALL TO THE BIRDS by ARISTOPHANES UNCROWNED by ALFRED GOLDSWORTHY BAILEY NEW THINGS ARE BEST by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT FOLD YOUR PALE HANDS by KATHLEEN CLOSE |