I THINK the hemlock likes to stand Upon a marge of snow; It suits his own austerity, And satisfies an awe That men must slake in wilderness, Or in the desert cloy, -- An instinct for the hoar, the bald, Lapland's necessity. The hemlock's nature thrives on cold; The gnash of northern winds Is sweetest nutriment to him, His best Norwegian wines. To satin races he is nought; But children on the Don Beneath his tabernacles play, And Dnieper wrestlers run. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: ELMER BARR by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE CHURCH FLOORE by GEORGE HERBERT A FATHER OF WOMEN: AD SOROREM E. B. by ALICE MEYNELL IDYLLS OF THE KING: THE PASSING OF ARTHUR by ALFRED TENNYSON |