THE way ran under boughs of checkered green Where live things stirred, and sweet lights glinted through, And airs were cool and scented; well I knew It was New England, but this fresh demesne Was full of fabled folk no eye hath seen, Yet every poet's heart must take for true: Dryads and hamadryads, satyrs too, And fountain-nymphs, and trolls of freakish mien. Then, like a flash, the oneness of the world Broke on me; mythland was not here or there, But wheresoe'er shy Fancy had unfurled Her wings, perceiving Nature young and fair; New England spelled but Arcady, the same Unaging beauty by another name. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BE TRUE [THYSELF] by HORATIO (HORATIUS) BONAR THE YARN OF THE 'NANCY BELL' by WILLIAM SCHWENCK GILBERT PARTED FRIENDS by JAMES MONTGOMERY ODES: BOOK 1: ODE 3. TO A FRIEND UNSUCCESSFUL IN LOVE by MARK AKENSIDE |