NOT in the mines beyond the western main, You say, Cordelia, was the metal sought, Which a fine skill, of Indian growth, has wrought Into this flexible yet faithful Chain; Nor is it silver of romantic Spain But from our loved Helvellyn's depths was brought, Our own domestic mountain. Thing and thought Mix strangely; trifles light, and partly vain, Can prop, as you have learnt, our nobler being: Yes, Lady, while about your neck is wound (Your casual glance oft meeting) this bright cord, What witchery, for pure gifts of inward seeing, Lurks in it, Memory's Helper, Fancy's Lord, For precious tremblings in your bosom found! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WEAVER'S APPRENTICE by AL-RUSAFI THE METEMPSYCHOSIS by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THINK-ABOUTS by DAISY MAUD BELLIS EPITAPH by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN UT TUTO AB ATRIS CORPORE VIPERIS ... by JOHN BYROM WINDSOR, VERMONT by DANIEL LEAVENS CADY A BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 19 by THOMAS CAMPION |