Classic and Contemporary Poetry
PARKER RIVER, by HENRY HENDERSON First Line: Through broad gleaming meadows of billowy grass Last Line: In all the bright splendor of purple and gold. Subject(s): Parker River, Massachusetts | ||||||||
WHERE THE FIRST SETTLERS OF NEWBURY LANDED IN SEPTEMBER, 1634. THROUGH broad gleaming meadows of billowy grass, That forms at its outlet a long narrow pass, The river comes down By farms whose high tillage gives note to the town, As sparkling and bright As it gladdened the sight Of the fathers who first found its beautiful shore, And felt here was home, -- they need wander no more. When the swallows were gathering in flocks for their flight, As if conscious some foe of their kind were in sight, They pushed up the stream In the low level rays of the sun's lingering beam, That lit all below With a magical glow, That brought by resemblance old England to mind, Whose shores they had left with such heart-ache behind. The golden-rod waved its bright plumes from the bank, As if all the sunshine of summer it drank, And grapes full and fair Their wild native fragrance flung out on the air; And asters, and all The gay flowerets of fall That lengthen the season's long dreamy delight, Were crowding the woodside their beauty made bright. In the soft sunny days of September they came, When the trees here and there were alight with the flame That betokens decay And the passing of summer in glory away; As if the great Cause Of Nature's grand laws Had set his red signet that here should be stayed The tide of the year in its pomp and parade. And now, as I stand on this broad open height, And take in the view with enraptured delight, I feel as they felt Who in fervor of soul by these bright waters knelt, That here I could rest In the consciousness blest That Nature has given all heart, hand, or eye Could crave for contentment that earth can supply; -- The limitless ocean that stretches away Beyond the bright islets that light up the bay, The murmurous roar Of the surf breaking in on the long line of shore, And rivers that run Like gold in the sun, And broad sunny hillsides and bright breezy groves, And all one instinctively longs for and loves. Trees bending with fruit touched with tints of the morn, Fields soft with the late springing verdure unshorn, And glimpses so fair Of city and river and sails here and there, And cottages white On the beach by the light, -- The picturesque roadside, and vistas that seem Like openings to fairy-land seen but in dream. Adieu, gentle river! though long I may wait Ere here I shall stand at the day's golden gate, And take in the view That brings back the past as so old and so new; Yet memory will still Haunt this storied old hill Whence I see as in vision the prospect unrolled In all the bright splendor of purple and gold. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: WIDOW MCFARLANE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS TWILIGHT COMES by HAYDEN CARRUTH LITTLE BOY BLUE by EUGENE FIELD THE GRASSHOPPER AND CRICKET by JOHN KEATS |
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