THE wind through the summer woods blows cool, So I walk with quiet pace, But I stop a little at the pool, And again I see your face. Just where the pale primroses peep Above the dimpling stream, I see as in some magic sleep A form to suit my dream. And bright, and warm, and sweet to view It grows distinct and fair, As if the waves were mirrors true And you were looking there: All just the same as you stood that day, When the wind was low and cool, With your feet on the wild-flowers where they lay, And your shadow in the pool. But I could not reach the one wild rose That in your hand was seen; For still as thought and act would close, The pool grew up between. Ah heart, ah heart, I turn away From the dreams of my idle brain, And sigh to think that this summer day Hath power to bring me pain; For how many things in my little life Have offer'd unto me Their fresh sweet hopes with blossoms rife As the spring-buds on a tree. But still as my hand would make display To gather what was seen, Like the silent pool by the forest way A gap grew up between. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...JIM BLUDSO [OF THE PRAIRIE BELLE] by JOHN MILTON HAY TO MRS. THRALE [ON HER COMPLETING HER THIRTY-FIFTH YEAR] by SAMUEL JOHNSON (1709-1784) THE FOURTH OF JULY by JOHN PIERPONT THE SPELL OF THE YUKON by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE SHADOWS IN THE WATER by THOMAS TRAHERNE HINTS OF AN HISTORICAL PLAY TO BE CALLED WILLIAM RUFUS by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |