What seek I here to gather into words? The scenes that rise before me as I turn The pages of old times. A word -- a name -- Conjures the past before me, till it grows More actual than the present: that -- I see But with the common eyes of daily life, Imperfect and impatient; but the past Out of imagination works its truth, And grows distinct with poetry. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MARY AND GABRIEL by RUPERT BROOKE SAINT AGNES' EVE by ALFRED TENNYSON ITALIAN MUSIC IN DAKOTA (THE SEVENTEENTH - THE FINEST REGIMENTAL BAND) by WALT WHITMAN TO WALTER LIONEL DE ROTHSCHILD ON HIS BAR-MITZVAH by LOUIS BARNETT ABRAHAMS SONNET: MAN VERSUS ASCETIC. 2 by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON |