There is an air that haunts me till I slight The witching strains of Weber and Mozart; An air that floods with languorous delight The secret chambers of my lonely heart. Each time I listen to that music old I seem to live two hundred years ago, 'Tis Louis Treize who reigns, and I behold Green uplands golden in the sunset's glow. Then, a tall palace, grey with granite towers And countless window-panes that redly glare, Girt by broad parks through which 'mid bloom of flowers A glassy river wanders here and there. And then, a lady opes a casement high— Pale, with dark eyes, in antique robes arrayed, One whom I loved in centuries gone by— Whose image never from my soul can fade! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...REGARDING CHAINSAWS by HAYDEN CARRUTH DREAM LIFE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON PENDULUM by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON STUDY FOR A GEOGRAPHICAL TRAIL; 2. ILLINOIS by CLARENCE MAJOR THE DECISION (APRIL 14, 1861) by EDGAR LEE MASTERS A FOOL, A FOUL THING, A DISTRESSFUL LUNATIC by MARIANNE MOORE THE REVEALER by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON |