I LIE in wait that I may steal a view Of truth as lovely as the spires of larch Rising in limpid skies. But wandering March Eludes me though I watch the swift year through July to June: all visions dawn from you. Though I look steadily across the arch Of my own youth; though many splendors parch My blood, your wisdom, Sweet, alone I listen to. Yet I would win a beauty all my own, Too fine for derivation or confiding, -- Surprise a truth your love has never shown My servile glance; my themes, by living them, Shall grow like laden branches from a stem, And I shall break them off at their dividing. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE VANITY OF HUMAN WISHES; THE 10TH SATIRE OF JUVENAL, IMITATED by SAMUEL JOHNSON (1709-1784) THE EARL O' QUARTERDECK by GEORGE MACDONALD THE ORCHARD PIT by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE TRAMPS by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE WHEN I PERUSE THE CONQUER'D FAME by WALT WHITMAN |