WHAT is time, O glorious Giver, With its restlessness and might, But a lost and wandering river Working back into the light? Every gloomy rock that troubles Its smooth passage, strikes to life Beautiful and joyous bubbles That are only born through strife. Overhung with mist-like shadows, Stretch its shores away, away, To the long, delightful meadows Shining with immortal May: Where its moaning reaches never, Passion, pain, or fear to move, And the changes bring us ever Sabbaths and new moons of love. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...POE'S COTTAGE AT FORDHAM by JOHN HENRY BONER THE MONK IN THE KITCHEN by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH TERNISSA, FR HELLENICS by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR WORDLY WISE (10) by MOTHER GOOSE IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 9 by ALFRED TENNYSON THE LINCOLN HOME by ZELLA ACKERMAN AT FONT-GEORGES by THEODORE FAULLAIN DE BANVILLE NELL COOK; A LEGEND OF THE 'DARK ENTRY': THE KING'S SCHOLAR'S STORY by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |