Spenser! a jealous honourer of thine, A forester deep in thy midmost trees, Did last eve ask my promise to refine Some English that might strive thine ear to please. But Elfin Poet 'tis impossible For an inhabitant of wintry earth To rise like Phoebus with a golden quell Fire-wing'd and make a morning in his mirth. It is impossible to escape from toil O' the sudden and receive thy spiriting: The flower must drink the nature of the soil Before it can put forth its blossoming: Be with me in the summer days and I Will for thine honour and his pleasure try. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...APRIL, FR. LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE A CAMEO by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE THE GLASSES AND THE BIBLE by ST. CLAIR ADAMS THE JEWISH MARTYRS by W. V. B. THE SLUGGARD by JOSEPH BEAUMONT RIDDLE OF GOD by PAUL SOUTHWORTH BLISS THE WANDERER: 6. PALINGENSIS: EUTHANASIA (WRITTEN AFTER LONG ILLNESS) by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |