In glades where frost is ambushed in the ferns, In the low meadow dipping to the stream, A luring light and subtle beauty burns, And now I see and now have lost the gleam; The water sings, its crystal body curls With welling music round the root and stone, But a voice haunts there, clear above the swirls, And now I catch and now I miss that tone. Spring, light of light; stay not so shyly far, Maybe a dream, maybe a living truth; Voice that was there, attend that sudden star, And in one fountain song say you are youth, Or love, or some resemblance -- Ah, that prayer, Answered, would leave but wood and water there. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BARON'S LAST BANQUET by ALBERT GORTON GREENE THE NO-LONGER-MERRY ANCIENT MONARCH by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS ASOLANDO: REPHAN by ROBERT BROWNING A HYMN ON THE DIVINE OMNIPRESENCE by JOHN BYROM INSOMNIA by EDOUARD JOACHIM CORBIERE THE LAST GREETING by JOSEPH VON EICHENDORFF OCCASIONED BY GENERAL WASHINGTON'S ARRIVAL IN PHILADELPHIA by PHILIP FRENEAU |