Apollo, homeward bound, Stands balanced on the mountain's brink, Drenching each thick-enfoliaged velvet mound In dripping liquid splotch of orange ink. The trees, with golden halos crowned, Beneath his splendor shrink. Stock-still he seems to stand, His sandals on a tree at rest; Then down he leaps as though at some command, But halts when half beneath the shining crest To contemplate the journey plann'd, Then sinks into the west. Down here all's drab and dead, But there on high is left his trail: The mountains still are clad in blushing red, Which soon is banished for a faint pink veil. Rested, I watch the shadows shed Their gloom o'er hill and dale. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MY ORCHA'D IN LINDEN LEA by WILLIAM BARNES AELLA: MINSTREL'S MARRIAGE-SONG by THOMAS CHATTERTON BALLAD: TIME OF ROSES by THOMAS HOOD ELEGIAC STANZAS by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE BIRTHDAY CROWN by WILLIAM ALEXANDER (1824-1911) THE WANDERER by MATHILDE BLIND |