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User Rating:
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6.2
/10
(15 votes)
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You, the choice minions of the proud-lipped nine
Who warble at the great Apollo's knee,
Why do you laugh at these rude lays of mine?
I seek not of your brotherhood to be:
I do not play the public swan, nor try
To curve my proud neck on your vocal streams.
In my own little isle retreated, I
Lost myself in my waters and my dreams:
Forgetful of the world, forgotten too,
The cygnet of my own secluded wave
I sing, whilst dashing up their silver dew
For joy, the petty billows try to rave:
There is a still applause in solitude,
Fitting alike my merits and my mood.
George Darley
| Submitted Date |
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Friday, January 03, 2003 |
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Read poems about / on: solitude, silver, joy, lost, world, water, dream
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