NO fiction was it of the antique age: A sky-blue stone, within this sunless cleft, Is of the very footmarks unbereft Which tiny Elves impressed; -- on that smooth stage Dancing with all their brilliant equipage In secret revels -- haply after theft Of some sweet Babe -- Flower stolen, and coarse Weed left For the distracted Mother to assuage Her grief with, as she might! -- But, where, oh! where Is traceable a vestige of the notes That ruled those dances wild in character? -- Deep underground? Or in the upper air, On the shrill wind of midnight? or where floats O'er twilight fields the autumnal gossamer? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PROMETHEUS by GEORGE GORDON BYRON LOUISA MAY ALCOTT by LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON THE WAY OF SACRIFICE by MATTHEW ARNOLD AN UNANSWERABLE APOLOGY FOR THE RICH by MARY BARBER THE FRATERNAL DUEL by MATILDA BARBARA BETHAM-EDWARDS |