Memorabilia
Ah, did you once see Shelley plain,And did he stop and speak to you,And did you speak to him again?How strange it seems and new!
But you were living before that,And also you are living after;And the memory I started at--My starting moves your laughter!
I crossed a moor with a name of its ownAnd a certain use in the world, no doubt,Yet a hand's-breadth of it shines alone'Mid the blank miles round about.
For there I picked upon the heatherAnd there I put inside my breastA moulted feather, an eagle-feather!Well, I forget the rest.
Sign in to like, rate and collect poems, and keep track of what you've read.