@3Thou art wearin' awa', Jean, Like snaw when it's thaw, fean; Thou art wearin' awa' To the land o' the leal.@1 -- OLD SONG O the impassable sorrow, mother mine! Of the sweet, mournful air which, clear and well, For me thou singest! Never the divine Mahomedan harper, famous Israfel, Such rich enchanting luxury of woe Elicited from all his golden strings! Therefore, dear singer sad! chant clear, and low, And lovingly, the bard's imaginings. O poet unknown! conning thy verses o'er In lone, dim places, sorrowfully sweet; And O musician! touching the quick core Of pity, when thy skilful closes meet, -- My tears confess your witchery as they flow, Since I, too, @3wear@1 away like the unenduring snow. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN THE JEWISH SYNAGOGUE AT NEWPORT by EMMA LAZARUS LINES WRITTEN IN KENSINGTON GARDENS by MATTHEW ARNOLD THE INNOVATOR by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET NAPEOLON'S FAREWELL; FROM THE FRENCH by GEORGE GORDON BYRON MOZART'S REQUIEM by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS |