A thousand lilies, a thousand pinks, I take in my arms and clasp them round Close as the loving vine-branch links The bough in its clinging tendrils wound. For joy has taken abode with me, And care no longer turns pale my face, I love all life -- and if these things be, 'Tis the gift, fair dream, of thy heaven-sent grace I could climb the sky thy flight to follow . . . But alas! my joy lives but a breath, For the fleeting dream is a vision hollow, Like clouds in the wind it vanisheth. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ODE TO THE CUCKOO by MICHAEL BRUCE TO MY BOOKSELLER by BEN JONSON THE INDIAN SERENADE by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY CURFEW MUST NOT RING TONIGHT by ROSE HARTWICK THORPE LAODAMIA by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH MID-OCEAN by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |