WHEN I attain to utter forth in verse Some inward thought, my soul throbs audibly Along my pulses, yearning to be free And something farther, fuller, higher, rehearse, To the individual, true, and the universe, In consummation of right harmony: But, like a wind-exposed distorted tree, We are blown against for ever by the curse Which breathes through Nature. Oh, the world is weak! The effluence of each is false to all, And what we best conceive we fail to speak. Wait, soul, until thine ashen garments fall, And then resume thy broken strains, and seek Fit peroration without let or thrall. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE HURRICANE by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT FOR 'OUR LADY OF THE ROCKS' (BY LEONARDO DA VINCI) by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 83. BARREN SPRING by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI AMERICA by JAMES MONROE WHITFIELD L. OF G.'S PURPORT by WALT WHITMAN STANZAS by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD |