A JEWELLED tale, an antique historie Plucked out of darkness and the dust of kings, Or windy song the Northern sea-maid flings Among the mountains from the brooding sea; Such gifts my venturous Fancy promised thee When to the sun he stretched his gauzy wings. He promised thee, but other far he brings As wingless now he wanders home to me. Poor creeping Elf! He gathers what he can— Herbs that each rash disdainful foot may reach, Yet once who wore them understood the speech Of bird and beast and all the song of Pan. One hidden tongue they still have power to teach— The obscure cry of toiling, suffering Man. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MY GARDEN by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN ON STURMINSTER FOOT-BRIDGE by THOMAS HARDY UPON THE DEATH OF MY EVER CONSTANT FRIEND DOCTOR DONNE, DEAN OF PAUL'S by HENRY KING (1592-1669) ST. ISAAC'S CHURCH, PETROGRAD by CLAUDE MCKAY INTROSPECTIVE by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI SONNET: 107 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE THE FLATTERERS by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS |