I mind me how one day-break long ago, I heard the wild swan play his magic horn; Heard the cold north wind blow his pipe forlorn; Heard the sweet stream purl gently to and fro In oaten meadows; while the lyric flow Of field-lark hymn called to the coming morn Until the sun, a light divine, new-born, Lifted—a wild flash over the virgin snow. Then stood I like the holy orient priest, Who gave unto the fire a sacred name, And ever burned his altar in the East; Or, like the rapturous poet-king who came At morn, as to a pentecostal feast, And saw Jehovah in the Rising Flame! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GOSSAMER by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE HERETIC: 3. MOCKERY by LOUIS UNTERMEYER KNOWLEDGE by HENRY DAVID THOREAU LATAKIA by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH MY OWN EPITAPH by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |