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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE HEATH, by THEODOR STORM Poet's Biography First Line: It is so quiet here Last Line: Have not yet reached this loneliness. | |||
It is so quiet here. There lies The heath in noon's warm sunshine gold. A gleam of light, all rosy, flies And hovers round the tombstones old. The herbs are blooming; fragrance fair Now fills the bluish summer air. The beetles rush through bush and trees, In little golden coats of mail; And on the heather-bells the bees Alight, on all the branches frail. From out the grass there starts a throng Of larks and fills the air with song. A lonely house, half-crumbled, low: The farmer, in the doorway bent, Stands watching in the sunlight's glow The busy bees in sweet content. And on a stone near by his boy Is carving pipes from reeds with joy. Searce trembling through the peace of noon, The town-clock strikes--from far, it seems. The old man's lids are drooping soon, And of his honey crops he dreams.-- The sounds that fill our time of stress Have not yet reached this loneliness. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO A DECEASED by THEODOR STORM TO HIS DEAD WIFE by THEODOR STORM HOUSES OF DREAMS by SARA TEASDALE ALL THAT'S PAST by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE IMMORTALITY by EMILY DICKINSON AS KINGFISHERS CATCH FIRE by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS OLD POETS by ALFRED JOYCE KILMER THE RUBAIYAT, 1879 EDITION: 24 by OMAR KHAYYAM |
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