HAD not the soil that bred me further done, And fill'd part of those veins which sweetly do, Much like the living streams of Eden, run, Embracing such a Paradise as you; My Muse had fail'd me in the course I ran, But that she from your virtues took new breath, And from your eyes such fire that, like a swan, She in your praise can sing herself to death. Now could I wish those golden hours unspent, Wherein my fancy led me to the woods, And tun'd soft lays of rural merriment, Of shepherds' loves and never-resting floods: For had I seen you then, though in a dream, Those songs had slept, and you had been my theme. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BLACK RIDERS: 22 by STEPHEN CRANE THE TREASURES OF THE DEEP by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS CACOETHES SCRIBENDI by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES THE RUBAIYAT, 1879 EDITION: 7 by OMAR KHAYYAM TO THE FOUR COURTS, PLEASE by JAMES STEPHENS DEATH AT DAYBREAK by ANNE REEVE ALDRICH TO MISS ANNA MARIA TRAVERS. AN EPISTLE FROM SCOTLAND by CHARLOTTE BRERETON |