It was some Spirit, Sheridan! that breathed O'er thy young mind such wildly various power! My soul hath marked thee in her shaping hour, Thy temples with Hymettian flow'rets wreathed: And sweet thy voice, as when o'er Laura's bier Sad music trembled through Vauclusa's glade; Sweet, as at dawn the love-lorn Serenade That wafts soft dreams to Slumber's listening ear. Now patriot rage and indignation high Swell the full tones! And now thine eye-beams dance Meanings of Scorn and Wit's quaint revelry! Writhes inly from the bosom-probing glance The Apostate by the brainless rout adored, As erst that elder Fiend beneath great Michael's sword. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: FIDDLER JONES by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: MRS. BENJAMIN PANTIER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS TO THINK OF TIME by WALT WHITMAN COMPENSATION by E. M. BRAINARD EPITAPH ON LEVI LINCOLN THAXTER; INSCRIBED ON A ROCK ABOVE THE GRAVE by ROBERT BROWNING MIDSUMMER by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT THE WANDERER: PROLOGUE. PART 2 by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |