WHAT made my heart, at Newstead, fullest swell?-- 'Twas not the thought of Byron, of his cry Stormily sweet, his Titan agony; It was the sight of that Lord Arundel Who struck, in heat, the child he loved so well, And the child's reason flickered, and did die. Painted (he will'd it) in the gallery They hang; the picture doth the story tell. Behold the stern, mail'd father, staff in hand! The little fair-hair'd son, with vacant gaze, Where no more lights of sense or knowledge are! Methinks the woe which made that father stand Baring his dumb remorse to future days, Was woe than Byron's woe more tragic far. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GROWN-UP TALK by KATHERINE MANSFIELD CONTRA MORTEM: THE SUMMER by HAYDEN CARRUTH I'M GOING BACK TO SOMETHING by DAVID IGNATOW TAPS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON HOUSE WITH THE MARBLE STEPS by AMY LOWELL SPRING DAY: NIGHT AND SLEEP by AMY LOWELL STUDY FOR A GEOGRAPHICAL TRAIL; 1. SEATTLE by CLARENCE MAJOR |