Sleep, kinsman thou to death and trance And madness, thou hast forged at last A night-long present of the past In which we went thro' summer France. Hadst thou such credit with the soul? Then bring an opiate trebly strong, Drug down the blindfold sense of wrong, That so my pleasure may be whole; While now we talk as once we talk'd Of men and minds, the dust of change, The days that grow to something strange, In walking as of old we walk'd Beside the river's wooded reach, The fortress, and the mountain ridge, The cataract flashing from the bridge, The breaker breaking on the beach. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BEARING LEAVES AGAIN by DAVID IGNATOW SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: ANNE RUTLEDGE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS MUSIC IN THE NIGHT by HARRIET PRESCOTT SPOFFORD AN AUTUMNAL THOUGHT, 1795 by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD TIME'S PENDULUM by GRACE O. BOLSTAD AND ONE SHALL LIVE IN TWO by JONATHAN HENDERSON BROOKS A ROMANCE OF THE GANGES by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |