AH, where are the echoes of gladness Which dwell in my listening mind? What meaneth the whisper of sadness, Like the moan of the autumn wind? I am chained by an often told story, Come down from the olden time When fairydom saw its glory, A haunting, saddening chime. The air is still and darkling, And silently flows the Rhine; The mountain peaks are sparkling, Where sunset rays yet shine. A strangely beauteous maiden Sits high on the grim rock there, Her arms are with rich gems laden, She combeth her golden hair. With a golden comb she is combing, And sings an enchanted song, And wondrously through the gloaming That melody floats along. Then a wild weird sorrow amazeth The boatman in gliding skiff, While upward alone he gazeth He sees not the fatal cliff. The wave-bells a knell are ringing, For the Rhine his prey hath won, And that with her syren-singing Hath the Sprite of the Lorely done. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HEGIRA by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE GARDEN OF LOVE, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE HYMNS OF THE MARSHES: MARSH SONG - AT SUNSET by SIDNEY LANIER BURIAL by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY HE MOURNS FOR THE CHANGE THAT HAS COME UPON HIM AND BELOVED by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS PRAYER FOR A DREAM by JOHN C. ADLER |