Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE EGLANTINE, by DAVID MACBETH MOIR


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE EGLANTINE, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: The sun was setting in the summer west
Last Line: And memories of the by-past, sad and sweet.
Alternate Author Name(s): Delta
Subject(s): Beauty; Flowers; Love; Memory; Roses; Youth


THE sun was setting in the summer west
With golden glory, 'mid pavilions vast
Of purple and gold; scarcely a zephyr breathed;
The woods in their umbrageous beauty slept;
The river with a soft sound murmured on;
Sweetly the wild birds sang; and far away
The azure-shouldered mountains, softly lined,
Seemed like the boundaries of Paradise.

Soft fell the eve: my wanderings led me on
To a lone river bank of yellow sand,—
The loved haunt of the ousel, whose blithe wing
Wanton'd from stone to stone,—and, on a mound
Of verdurous turf with wild-flowers diamonded,
(Harebell and lychnis, thyme and camomile,)
Sprang in the majesty of natural pride
An Eglantine—the red rose of the wood—
Its cany boughs with threatening prickles arm'd,
Rich in its blossoms and sweet-scented leaves.

The wild-rose has a nameless spell for me;
And never on the road-side do mine eyes
Behold it, but at once my thoughts revert
To schoolboy days: why so, I scarcely know;
Except that once, while wandering with my mates,
One gorgeous afternoon, when holiday
To Nature lent new charms, a thunder-storm
O'ertook us, cloud on cloud—a mass of black,
Dashing at once the blue sky from our view,
And spreading o'er the dim and dreary hills
A lurid mantle.
To a leafy screen
We fled, of elms; and from the rushing rain
And hail found shelter, though at every flash
Of the red lightning, brightly heralding
The thunder-peal, within each bosom died
The young heart, and the day of doom seemed come.

At length the rent battalia cleared away—
The tempest-cloven clouds; and sudden fell
A streak of joyful sunshine. On a bush
Of wild-rose fell its beauty. All was dark
Around it still, and dismal; but the beam
(Like Hope sent down to re-illume Despair)
Burned on the bush, displaying every leaf,
And bud, and blossom, with such perfect light
And exquisite splendour, that since then my heart
Hath deemed it Nature's favourite, and mine eyes
Fall on it never, but that thought recurs,
And memories of the by-past, sad and sweet.





Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!


Other Poems of Interest...
Home: PoetryExplorer.net