HOW the branch trembles of Apollo's bay! How the whole shrine! Hence, sinners all, away! Now Phoebus with his beautiful feet assails The threshold. Look! on a sudden gently vails The Delian palm her crest, while heavenward soars The swan singing. Lift up your bolts, ye doors, And be ye turned, ye keys! The God is near. Prepare you, lads, for song and dance, prepare! Apollo doth not unto all appear, But to the good: who seeth him is great; Who hath not seen him is of low estate. We shall behold thee, Archer, and not be base. Boys, when Apollo visiteth his place, Not mute your lyre nor pulseless be your tread, If you'd be wived, and crop a silvered head, And stedfast on their old foundations keep Your walls! Well done! the lyre is not asleep. Hush, listeners, at the Apolline melody! Hushed are the waves when minstrels magnify The Lycoreian emblems, lyre or bow: Thetis will intermit the dirge of woe Over her son Achilles when she hears 'Hie Paeeon'; and the Rock of Tears, That dripping stone, that marble woman set Wide-mouthed in Phrygia mourning, will forget. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AUGURIES OF INNOCENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE THE MASTER by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE COMMONPLACE by WALT WHITMAN MYRTILLA by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH TO A.G.A. by EMILY JANE BRONTE THE DEAD EAGLE; WRITTEN AT ORAN by THOMAS CAMPBELL SONG AND CRY OF A SOLDIER IN THE LINES by ALBERT EDWARD CLEMENTS |