I. NOT to the hills where cedars move Their cloudy head, not to the grove Of myrtles in th' Elysian shade, Nor Tempe which the poets made; Not on the spicy mountains play; Or travel to Arabia: I aim not at the careful Throne, Which Fortune's darlings sit upon; No, no, the best this fickle world can give, Has but a little, little time to live. II. But let me soar, O let me fly Beyond poor Earth's benighted eye, Beyond the pitch swift eagles tower, Above the reach of human power; Above the stars, above the way, Whence Phoebus darts his piercing ray. O let me tread those Courts that are, So bright, so pure, so blest, so fair, As neither thou nor I must ever know On Earth -- 'tis thither, thither would I go. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A DIRGE by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE BARD'S EXCUSE by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE GRAVE OF HOMER by ALCAEUS OF MESSENE SUNSET IN THE DEVIL'S GLEN: COUNTY WICKLOW by EDMUND JOHN ARMSTRONG HUMAN PLEASURE OR PAIN by MATILDA BARBARA BETHAM-EDWARDS THE WESTERN ROAD by EDWIN JAMES BRADY |