DEAREST and most inseparable Friend, Why is it that the thought of thee is bound With one small plot of honey-scented ground, Through which a murmuring river without end Flows, while its eddies with the grasses blend? Have I been there with thee? Has that low sound In thy wise voice a tenderer echo found? What valley is this towards which my dreams descend? Is it that corner of your leaguered brain, Shut in by high ambitions, and the stress Of battling hopes and godlike imagery, Where you grow hushed and like a child again, Shifting your armour for an easier dress, To sit an hour and hold me company? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FUNERAL by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE HOME (2) by EDGAR ALBERT GUEST LONG CHERISHED GRIEF by MIRIAM BARRANGER THE LAST MAN: METAPHOR OF RAIN by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES EUTERPE by LUCIUS MORRIS BEEBE |