poetry texts, poem archive at plagiarist.com

Read more poems by Robert Browning: Robert Browning Poems at Poetry X.

This is a spray the Bird clung to,
Making it blossom with pleasure,
Ere the high tree-top she sprung to,
Fit for her nest and her treasure.
Oh, what a hope beyond measure
Was the poor spray's, which the flying feet hung to,— 
So to be singled out, built in, and sung to!

This is a heart the Queen leant on,
Thrilled in a minute erratic,
Ere the true bosom she bent on,
Meet for love's regal dalmatic.
Oh, what a fancy ecstatic
Was the poor heart's, ere the wanderer went on— 
Love to be saved for it, proffered to, spent on!

Added: 12 Aug 2002 | Last Read: 5 Jul 2008 10:16 PM | Viewed: 2585 times

PoetryNotes™ Analysis

A custom PoetryNotes™ eBook may be ordered for this poem. Get help with your homework - delivered in 5-6 days.

For more information...