Oft in our fancy an uncertain thought Hangs colourless, like dew on bents of grass, Before the morning o'er the field doth pass; But soon it glows and brightens; all unsought A sudden glory flashes thro' the dream, Our purpose deepens and our wit grows brave, The thronging hints a richer utterance crave, And tongues of fire approach the new-won theme; A subtler process now begins - a claim Is urged for order, a well-balanced scheme Of words and numbers, a consistent aim; The dew dissolves before the warming beam; But that fair thought consolidates its flame, And keeps its colours, hardening to a gem. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE GARDEN by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON UNCLE ANANIAS by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON WHEN I READ THE BOOK by WALT WHITMAN ANTIMENIDAS by ALCAEUS OF MYTILENE SEASONS AND TIMES by WILLIAM BARNES |