The morning wears a misty crown Of gold, hung in the sky. In a golden pond black rushes drown, Tall catkins throw grey shadows down Across my boat, in a shielding frown, Where wait my dog and I. A thrilling cry, though nothing seen, This is the hunter's fun. Where blue and gold maze into green, In a true straight V shape come fifteen Grey travelers, and their call rings keen. I do not lift my gun. I sit and watch them wing away Into some other land. A tapestry of gold and grey Thrown 'cross the sky at break of day, In mem'ry woven, e'er to stay, By God's own dext'rous hand. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPISTLE TO ROBERT, EARL OF OXFORD, AND EARL MORTIMER by ALEXANDER POPE IKE WALTON'S PRAYER by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY DICK, A MAGGOT by JONATHAN SWIFT THE KINGDOM OF GOD by FRANCIS THOMPSON THE ART OF PRESERVING HEALTH: BOOK 2. RUSTIC INTERIOR by JOHN ARMSTRONG WIND IN THE WILLOWS by VERNE TAYLOR BENEDICT ON A FAN by MATILDA BARBARA BETHAM-EDWARDS |