O thou who sittest with the wise, And searchest higher lore, And openest regions to their eyes Unvisited before! I'd run to loose thee if I could, Nor let the vulture taste thy blood. But, pity! pity! Attic bee! 'Tis happiness forbidden me. Despair is not for good or wise, And should not be for love; We all must bear our destinies And bend to those above. Birds flying o'er the stormy seas Alight upon their proper trees. Yet wisest men not always know Where they should stop or whither go. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE VIKING GRAVE AT LADBY by KAREN SWENSON THE SOLSEQUIUM by ALEXANDER MONTGOMERIE HESPERIA by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE MEMORY by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 14. THE POWERFUL ATTRACTION by PHILIP AYRES QUATORZAINS: 2. THOUGHTS by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE ARCIERI OF MICHELANGELO by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |