Faint as the far-down tone Beneath the sounding sea, Muffled by its own moan, To silent melody; So faint we cannot tell But that the sound we hear Is some sweet roses' smell That falls upon our ear; (As if the Butterfly, Shaking the Lily-bell, While drinking joyfully, Should toll its own death-knell!) Sweeter than Hope's sweet lute Singing of joys to be, When Pain's harsh voice is mute, Is the Soul's sweet song to me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 47 by ALFRED TENNYSON HIDDEN JOYS by SAMUEL LAMAN BLANCHARD A PALIMPSEST by KATHERINE HARRIS BRADLEY A FOREIGN TONGUE by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH ST. PAUL'S DAY, 1925 by CHARLES WILLIAM BRODRIBB |