How cold are thy baths, Apollo! Cried the African monarch, the splendid, As down to his death in the hollow Dark dungeons of Rome he descended, Uncrowned, unthroned, unattended; How cold are thy baths, Apollo! How cold are thy baths, Apollo! Cried the Poet, unknown, unbefriended, As the vision, that lured him to follow, With the mist and the darkness blended, And the dream of his life was ended; How cold are thy baths, Apollo! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A PSALM OF LIFE by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE RUBAIYAT, 1879 EDITION: 21 by OMAR KHAYYAM AMORETTI: 65 by EDMUND SPENSER THE DAY OF JUDGEMENT by JONATHAN SWIFT OUT OF THE HILLS by IRENE ARCHER CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF CULLODEN by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN |