1.
I pant for the music which is divine,
My heart in its thirst is a dying flower;
Pour forth the sound like enchanted wine,
Loosen the notes in a silver shower;
Like a herbless plain, for the gentle rain,
I gasp, I faint, till they wake again.
2.
Let me drink of the spirit of that sweet sound,
More, oh more, - I am thirsting yet;
It loosens the serpent which care has bound
Upon my heart to stifle it;
The dissolving strain, through every vein,
Passes into my heart and brain.
3.
As the scent of a violet withered up,
Which grew by the brink of a silver lake,
When the hot noon has drained its dewy cup,
And mist there was none its thirst to slake -
And the violet lay dead while the odour flew
On the wings of the wind o'er the waters blue -
4.
As one who drinks from a charmed cup
Of foaming, and sparkling, and murmuring wine,
Whom, a mighty Enchantress filling up,
Invites to love with her kiss divine...
Music
Percy Bysshe Shelley
(1)
Poem topics: flower, kiss, music, rain, wind, gentle, blue, sweet, plain, brain, spirit, drink, serpent, bound, love, silver, I love you, violet, divine, sound, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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