BLAME not my vacant looks; it is not true, That my discourteous thoughts did vainly stray Out of the presence of your gentle lay, While other eager listeners nearer drew, Though sooth I hardly heard a note; for you, Most cunning songstress, did my soul convey Over the fields of space, far, far away, To the dear garden-land, where long it grew. Thus, all that time, beneath the ilex roof Of an old Alban hill, I lay aloof, With the cicala faintly clittering near, Till, as your song expired, the clouds that pass Athwart the Roman plain, as o'er a glass, Thickened, and bade the vision disappear. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FAIREST THING IN MORTAL EYES by CHARLES D'ORLEANS THE GOLDEN TARGE by WILLIAM DUNBAR CLOTHES DO BUT CHEAT AND COZEN US by ROBERT HERRICK REMEMBERED MUSIC; A FRAGMENT by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL THE VINE by MUHAMMAD AL-MU'TAMID II |