FAIR sister of the Muses, 't is the hour, Dearest of all, when thou dost wed thy Art. No bride more radiant a more single heart Gave to her chosen -- and what noble dower! Graces akin to forest and to flower; A spirit blithe as dawn; a soul astart; A nature rich, to keep thee what thou art -- A star of beauty and a flame of power. Now, while the tranced throng turn each to each Sharing their joy, think'st thou on those young years When many a day and night was unbeguiled Save by this love that lightened toil and tears? Thy music melts upon the verge of speech; Fame greets the artist -- I, the constant child. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CONFESSIONAL by ROBERT BROWNING A MOMENT by MARY ELIZABETH COLERIDGE MISGIVINGS (1860) by HERMAN MELVILLE ON A MOURNER by ALFRED TENNYSON ODES: BOOK 1: ODE 16. TO CALEB HARDINGE, M.D. by MARK AKENSIDE |