The Tower
I
WHAT shall I do with this absurdity -
O heart, O troubled heart - this caricature,
Decrepit age that has beeo me
As to a dogs tail?
Never had I more
Excited, passionate, fantastical
Imagination, nor an ear and eye
That more expected the impossible -
No, not in boyhood when with rod and fly,
Or the humbler worm, I climbed Ben Bulbens back
And had the livelong summer day to spend.
It seems that I must bid the Muse go pack,
Choose Plato and Plotinus for a friend
Until imagination, ear and eye,
be tent with argument and deal
In abstract things; or be derided by
A sort of battered kettle at the heel.
II
I pace upotlements and stare
On the foundations of a house, or where
Tree, like a sooty finger, starts from the earth;
And send imagination forth
Uhe days deing beam, and call
Images and memories
From ruin or from arees,
For I would ask a question of them all.
Beyond that ridge lived Mrs. French, and once
When every silver dlestick or sce
Lit up t……（内容加载失败！）
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