FAR over Elf-land poets stretch their sway, And win their dearest crowns beyond the goal Of their own conscious purpose; they control With gossamer threads wide-flown our fancy's play, And so our action. On my walk to-day, A wallowing bear begged clumsily his toll, When straight a vision rose of Atta Troll, And scenes ideal witched mine eyes away. +"@3Merci, Mossieu !@1" the astonished bear-ward cried, Grateful for thrice his hope to me, the slave Of partial memory, seeing at his side A bear immortal. The glad dole I gave Was none of mine; poor Heine o'er the wide Atlantic welter reached it from his grave. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE BEING AS VISION by HAYDEN CARRUTH DESTINY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO THE LAPLAND LONGSPUR by JOHN BURROUGHS NATURE; SONNET by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW REBEL COLOR-BEARERS AT SHILOH by HERMAN MELVILLE WASHINGTON'S MONUMENT, FEBRUARY, 1885 by WALT WHITMAN |