I DEAR Master in our classic town, You, loved by all the younger gown There at Balliol, Lay your Plato for one minute down, II And read a Grecian tale re-told, Which, cast in later Grecian mould, Quintus Calaber Somewhat lazily handled of old; III And on this white midwinter day -- For have the far-off hymns of May, All her melodies, All her harmonies echo'd away? -- IV To-day, before you turn again To thoughts that lift the soul of men, Hear my cataract's Downward thunder in hollow and glen, V Till, led by dream and vague desire, The woman, gliding toward the pyre, Find her warrior Stark and dark in his funeral fire. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CHARLES CARVILLE'S EYES by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON MY AIN COUNTRIE by MARY LEE DEMAREST TWENTY GOLDEN YEARS AGO by JAMES CLARENCE MANGAN TO DEATH OF HIS LADY by FRANCOIS VILLON THERE IS NOTHING STRANGE by ARCHILOCHUS |