Late-born and woman-souled I dare not hope,
The freshness of the elder lays, the might
Of manly, modern passion shall alight
Upon my Muse's lips, nor may I cope
(Who veiled and screened by womanhood must grope)
With the world's strong-armed warriors and recite
The dangers, wounds, and triumphs of the fight;
Twanging the full-stringed lyre through all its scope.
But if thou ever in some lake-floored cave
O'erbrowed by rocks, a wild voice wooed and heard,
Answering at once from heaven and earth and wave,
Lending elf-music to thy harshest word,
Misprize thou not these echoes that belong
To one in love with solitude and song.
the echos that belong to one in love with solitude and song. Beautiful and lovely expression. Thanks for sharing it here.
a thoughtful write with hope?
Modern passion. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem
Thanks for sharing........