RHYTHMS of exultation flow In dusky regions far behind The formal meadows of the mind. Sighs waft syllables, as blow The winds the grasses to and fro. The shape of cloud, as thought effaces Dream, eclipses the moon's lustre. My winged stars, like swallows, cluster In the deep enchanted spaces That imagination traces. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DON JUAN'S SONG by ISAAC ROSENBERG TO THE RIVER by EDGAR ALLAN POE THE HIGH-PRIEST TO ALEXANDER by ALFRED TENNYSON RETURNED FROM THE WAR by HENRY ABBEY ODES: BOOK 2: ODE 7. TO REVEREND BENJAMIN, LORD BISHOP OF WINCHESTER by MARK AKENSIDE |