FROM this deep chasm, where quivering sunbeams play Upon its loftiest crags, mine eyes behold A gloomy NICHE, capacious, blank, and cold; A concave free from shrubs and mosses grey; In semblance fresh, as if, with dire affray, Some Statue, placed amid these regions old For tutelary service, thence had rolled, Startling the flight of timid Yesterday! Was it by mortals sculptured? -- weary slaves Of slow endeavour! or abruptly cast Into rude shape by fire, with roaring blast Tempestuously let loose from central caves? Or fashioned by the turbulence of waves, Then, when o'er highest hills the Deluge passed? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...JOHNNY APPLESEED by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE CRYSTAL CABINET by WILLIAM BLAKE TO A POET THAT DIED YOUNG by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY KATHLEEN O'MORE by GEORGE NUGENT REYNOLDS THE KINGDOM OF GOD by FRANCIS THOMPSON THE TWO TREES by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS |