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Poem by William Cullen Bryant


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I broke the spell that held me long,
The dear, dear witchery of song.
I said, the poets idle lore
Shall waste my prime of years no more,
For Poetry, though heavenly born,
Consorts with poverty and scorn.

I broke the spellnor deemed its power
Could fetter me another hour.
Ah, thoughtless! how could I forget
Its causes were around me yet?
For wheresoeer I looked, the while,
Was Natures everlasting smile.

Still came and lingered on my sight
Of flowers and streams the bloom and light,
And glory of the stars and sun; 
And these and poetry are one.
They, ere the world had held me long,
Recalled me to the love of song.



                      William Cullen Bryant


William Cullen Bryant's other poems:
  1. Mutation
  2. A Forest Hymn
  3. The Evening Wind
  4. To a Waterfowl
  5. The Prairies


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