THE nest is built, the song hath ceas'd: The minstrel joineth in the feast, So singeth not. The poet's verse, Crippled by Hymen's household curse, Follows no more its hungry quest. Well if Love's feathers line the nest. Yet blame not that beside the fire Love hangeth up his unstrung lyre! How sing of hope when Hope hath fled, Joy whispering lip to lip instead? Or how repeat the tuneful moan When the Obdurate's all my own? Love, like the lark, while soaring sings: Wouldst have him spread again his wings? What careth he for higher skies Who on the heart of harvest lies, And finds both sun and firmament Clos'd in the round of his content? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE QUILTING by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR RECUERDO by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 54. LOVE'S FATALITY by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI LET ALL THE EARTH KEEP SILENCE by LUCY A. K. ADEE HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 47 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |