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Wind On The Lyre: Poem by George Meredith

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That was the chirp of Ariel
You heard, as overhead it flew,
The farther going more to dwell,
And wing our green to wed our blue;
But whether note of joy or knell,
Not his own Father-singer knew;
Nor yet can any mortal tell,
Save only how it shivers through;
The breast of us a sounded shell,
The blood of us a lighted dew.

Analysis of this poem
  • weather
  • wind

More verses by George Meredith

  • The Spirit Of Shakespeare
  • To A Nightingale
  • The Star Sirius
  • Young Reynard
  • Woodland Peace

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Poems about...
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  • life
  • nature
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  • spring
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  • beautiful
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