O HAD I native power to sweep thee, Lyre that awoke the Delian dawn, And with the soul of music steep thee, From old Hellenic poets drawn, Who would their joys and griefs rehearse In pure, pellucid Attic verse; Then would I loose in noble numbers The heart I dare not now invoke To stir the golden eagle's slumbers And horses of the sun to yoke; Ocean would hist his waves to peace, And heavenly stars their music cease. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FLOWER OF FINAE by THOMAS OSBORNE DAVIS WHISPERS OF IMMORTALITY by THOMAS STEARNS ELIOT THE CHILDREN'S HOUR by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW AT TWO-AND-TWENTY by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH WELCOME TO EGYPT by MATHILDE BLIND ON SEEING MISS FONTENELLE IN A FAVOURITE CHARACTER by ROBERT BURNS TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 4. I HEAR THY CALL, MYSTERIOUS BEING by EDWARD CARPENTER LINES WRITTEN AT MIDNIGHT DURING A THUNDER-STORM by ELIZABETH CARTER |