Who, friend that has lived, taking ampler view, Running life's chances, would life renew? Ay, Prince, but why fear? no use to dismay When turning to enter death's chamber of spell One waves back to life a good-natured farewell, Bye-bye, I must sleep. That's in Tyrian way. Not hereabouts very new. But, piercing our Siddata's comfortable word, Buddha, benign yet terrible, is heard: It is Buddha I love. -- From his Ever-and-a-Day, friend, ravish me away! Fable me something that may solace or repay -- Something of your art. Well, -- for a theme? A Phoenician are you. And your voyages of Tyre From Ophir's far strand they return full of dream That leaps to the heart of the nearby desire. Fable me, then, those Enviable Isles Whereof King Hiram's tars used to tell; Now looms the dim shore when the land is ahead; And what the strange charm the tarrier beguiles Time without end content there to dwell. Ay, fable me, those enviable isles. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A FOREST HYMN by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT THE QUEEN IN FRANCE; AN ANCIENT SCOTTISH BALLAD by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN MR. BARNEY MAGUIRE'S ACCOUNT OF THE CORONATION by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM HUMAN PLEASURE OR PAIN by MATILDA BARBARA BETHAM-EDWARDS |