LIKE southern birds, whose wings of light Are cold and hueless while at rest -- But spread to soar in upward flight, Appear in glorious plumage drest; The poet's soul -- while darkly close Its pinions, bids no passion glow; But roused at length from dull repose, Lights, while it spurns, the world below. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LADY AND THE SWINE by MOTHER GOOSE PETER STUYVESANT'S NEW YEAR'S CALL, 1 JAN. 1661 by EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 87. AL-GHANI by EDWIN ARNOLD PRODIGAL by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE LADY TO HER GUITAR by EMILY JANE BRONTE A TALE OF VILLAFRANCA; TOLD IN TUSCANY by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING TO CAROLINE (4) by GEORGE GORDON BYRON |