Explore "Silverpoints" by John Gray on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
How like a well-kept garden is your soul, / With bergomask and solemn minuet! / Playing upon the lute! The dancers seem / But sad, beneath their strange habiliments. / While, in the minor key, their songs extol / The victor Love, and life's sweet blandishments, / Their looks belie the burden of their lays, / The songs that mingle with the still moon-beams. / So strange, so beautiful, the pallid rays; / Making the birds among the branches dream, / And sob with ecstasy the slender jets,
The fountains tall that leap upon the lawns / Amid the garden gods, the marble fauns.