The Tower in tiers of architraves, Fair circle over cirque, A trunk of rounded colonades, The maker's master-work, Impends with all its pillared tribes, And, poising them, debates: It thinks to plunge -- but hesitates; Shrinks back -- yet fain would slide; Withholds itself -- itself would urge; Hovering, shivering on the verge, A would-be suicide! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WILLIE BREW'D A PECK O' MAUT by ROBERT BURNS PRAYER OF A SOLDIER IN FRANCE by ALFRED JOYCE KILMER FOR A DEAD LADY by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON ANONYMOUS by JOHN BANISTER TABB THE LAMP OF HERO by LOUISE VICTORINE ACKERMANN TO HAFIZ by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH NEVERNESS, OR THE ONE SHIP BEACHED ON ONE FAR DISTANT SHORE by MARGARET AVISON |