WHERE pollen drifts are softly blown From yellow fringed acacia down, Prone I lie, on pulsing ground. The eternal cadence of beating seas, Is echoed near in bee-rhymed trees Whose waving boughs sweep the curving blue. Nodding faces of buttercups shine, And I lie warm in budding grain. Carpets of copper and golden light, Myriad candles of balsam pine, Broad ocean and roving clouds: All I see, high and wide—is mine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONGS FOR MY MOTHER: 2. HER HANDS by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH A RENUNCIATION by EDWARD DE VERE THE DARK HILLS by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE GALLOWS by PHILIP EDWARD THOMAS WHEN I READ THE BOOK by WALT WHITMAN THE OLD FERRYMAN by ANTIPHILUS OF BYZANTIUM PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 70, 71. MUKADDIM, MUWAKHIR by EDWIN ARNOLD |