Back arching: so See her bending low To suckle with her waters Earth's lovely daughters. Her upper half is like A twanging bow, to strike With a liquid tide Of arrows every side. Or she is a sphere Celestial, her sheer Waters meteors hurled Upon a barren world. The slim boughs entrance Her with their swaying dance; Behold her twirling, Her sharp swords whirling. Not of thirst she groans I think, nor moans Parched, her shoulder-blade Drenched in that cascade. Suppose her then a maid Singing, and the glade A drinker, all a throng Of wine and song: Her sprinkled dew Over the dark hue White gifts to the black Importuning of lack. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SWEENEY AMONG THE NIGHTINGALES by THOMAS STEARNS ELIOT THE SABBATH MORNING by JOHN LEYDEN TO LUCASTA, [ON] GOING BEYOND THE SEAS by RICHARD LOVELACE VILLANELLE, WITH STEVENSON'S ASSISTANCE by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS |