The moon's my constant mistress, And the lovely owl my marrow; The flaming drake And the night-crow make Me music to my sorrow. I know more than Apollo; For oft, when he lies sleeping, I behold the stars At mortal wars, And the rounded welkin weeping. The moon embraces her shepherd, And the Queen of Love her warrior; While the first does horn The stars of the morn, And the next the heavenly farrier. With a heart of furious fancies, Whereof I am commander; With a burning spear And a horse of air To the wilderness I wander. With a knight of ghosts and shadows, I summoned am to tourney: Ten leagues beyond The wide world's end -- Methinks it is no journey. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...COLORS by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET A PECK OF GOLD by ROBERT FROST DEVASTATION by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO SAMUEL COLERIDGE UPON HEARING HIS 'SOME I FEEL LIKE A MOTHERLESS..' by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON WAITING IN THE CHILDREN'S HOSPITAL by CLARENCE MAJOR THE LONESOME CHILD by KATHERINE MANSFIELD IF HE SHOULD COME by EDWIN MARKHAM |