Sweet Poesy, why art thou dumb? I loved thee as my captive bird, That sang me songs when spring was gone, And birds of freedom were not heard; Nor dreamt thou wouldst turn false and cold When needed most, by men grown old. Sweet Poesy, why art thou dumb? I fear thy singing days are done; The poet in my soul is dying, And every charm in life is gone; In vain birds scold and flowers do plead -- The poet dies, his heart doth bleed. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE [EXCELLENT] BALLADE OF CHARITIE by THOMAS CHATTERTON A ST. HELENA LULLABY by RUDYARD KIPLING SUMMER IN ENGLAND, 1914 by ALICE MEYNELL THE PAUPER'S DRIVE by THOMAS NOEL EPODE: 2. THE PRAISES OF A COUNTRY LIFE by QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS THE SHEPHEARDES CALENDER: FEBRUARY by EDMUND SPENSER |