ILLYRIAN woodlands, echoing falls Of water, sheets of summer glass, The long divine Peneian pass, The vast Akrokeraunian walls, Tomohrit, Athos, all things fair, With such a pencil, such a pen, You shadow forth to distant men, I read and felt that I was there. And trust me while I turn'd the page, And track'd you still on classic ground, I grew in gladness till I found My spirits in the golden age. For me the torrent ever pour'd And glisten'd -- here and there alone The broad-limb'd Gods at random thrown By fountain-urns; -- and Naiads oar'd A glimmering shoulder under gloom Of cavern pillars; on the swell The silver lily heaved and fell; And many a slope was rich in bloom, From him that on the mountain lea By dancing rivulets fed his flocks To him who sat upon the rocks And fluted to the morning sea. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON IN THE SUBWAY by LOUIS UNTERMEYER ENCOURAGED by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR PUTTING IN THE SEED by ROBERT FROST GASCOIGNE'S WOODMANSHIP by GEORGE GASCOIGNE FEBRUARY IN ROME by EDMUND WILLIAM GOSSE |