A POET writ a song of May That checked his breath awhile; He kept it for a summer day, Then spake with half a smile: "Oh, little song of purity, Of mystic to-and-fro, You are so much a part of me I dare not let you go." And so he made a sister-song With more of cunning art; But held the first his whole life long Deep hidden in his heart. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FOR LAUREL AND HARDY ON MY WORKROOM WALL by DAVID WAGONER A BALLAD OF HELL by JOHN DAVIDSON THE WINDS OF FATE by ELLA WHEELER WILCOX THE PASTURE POND by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN TRENCH RAID NEAR HOOGE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN LOOKING IN THE FIRE by ADA CAMBRIDGE NOCTURNE by VINA BRUCE CHILTON |