Thou art a sword that's sheathèd in my heart, To be by no adventure drawn again, A divine vintage flooding every vein With an immortal joy, even such thou art. The Mænad Hours amid their dancing start With haggard eyes from that empurpling stain.— "See! Is it wine or blood?" they shriek in vain, And heavily with garments dyed depart. The Muse's self, the fierce relentless Muse Art thou, that doth in love of man delight, Kindling upon the lips her kisses choose A flame that shall eternally be bright, Fanned by Mnemosyne with fervent breath, And watched by those grim guardians, Time and Death. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DIXIE by DANIEL DECATUR EMMETT ELEGY TO THE MEMORY OF AN UNFORTUNATE LADY by ALEXANDER POPE DOVE RIVER ANTHOLOGY, BY OWN WILLIAM WORDSWORTH: LUCY GRAY by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS DEAD MEN, TO A METAPHYSICIAN by WILLIAM HERVEY ALLEN JR. THE TOUCHSTONE by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM OVID TO HIS WIFE: IMITATED FROM DIFFERENT PARTS OF TRISTIA by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD SONNET TO A FRIEND, ON HIS SECOND MARRIAGE by BERNARD BARTON |