I LOVE the harp with silver sound, That rings the festal hall around; But sweetest of all The strains which fall, When twilight mirth with song is crown'd. I love the bugle's warbling swell, When echo answers from her cell; But sweeter to me, When I list to @3thee@1, Who wak'st the northern lay so well. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LEAK IN THE DIKE; A STORY OF HOLLAND by PHOEBE CARY THE CAT by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES I SAW THREE SHIPS by MOTHER GOOSE AMORETTI: 34 by EDMUND SPENSER A SONNET. OF LOVE by PHILIP AYRES A LAMENT FOR PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN |