YOU ask us if by rule or no Our many-colored songs are wrought: Upon the cunning loom of thought, We weave our fancies, so and so. The busy shuttle comes and goes Across the rhymes, and deftly weaves A tissue out of autumn leaves, With here a thistle, there a rose. With art and patience thus is made The poet's perfect Cloth of Gold: When woven so, nor moth nor mould Nor time can make its colors fade. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LOVE BEING ALL ONE by ROBERT FROST A PORTRAIT OF MY ROOF by JAMES GALVIN FUGUE FOR A DROWNED GIRL by JAMES GALVIN ON BRODSKY'S COLLECTED by MICHAEL S. HARPER PENT by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON EPITAPH IN A CHURCH-YARD IN CHARLESTON, SOUTH CAROLINA by AMY LOWELL |