I will tread on the golden grass of my bright field, When the passion-star has paled, when the night has fled; I will tread on the golden grass of my bright field, In the glow of the early day when the east is red. In my bright field a broken beech-tree leans; And a giant boulder stands by a black-burned wood; And a rough-built, falling wall and a rotting door Sear, like a scar, the spot where a house once stood. My eyes are mute on the white edge of the dawn, My feet fall swift and bare upon the way . . . The long soft hills grow black against the sky, The great wood moves, unfolds; the high trees sway. The worn road stretches thin, and the low hedge stirs, And a strong old bridge looms frail o'er a ghostly stream; And a white flower turns and breathes, and turns again . . . Does it live, as I live? Does it wake, as I waked, from a dream? (How merciless is the dawn! how poignant the hush in my soul! How changeless the changing sky! how fearful that wild bird's call! I hear the quick suck of his wing, the push of his breast — he is gone! How swift is an æon of time! how endless, beginningless, all!) I tread on the golden grass of my bright field; The sun's on a hundred hills; the night has fled; I tread on the golden grass of my bright field In the glow of the early day; and the east is red. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SHELL TO THE PEARL by LOUIS UNTERMEYER FIRE, FAMINE AND SLAUGHTER. A WAR ECLOGUE by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE YOUTH AND CUPID by ELIZABETH I ON A CURATE'S COMPLAINT OF HARD DUTY by JONATHAN SWIFT A NEW PILGRIMAGE: 14 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT ZOPHIEL; OR THE BRIDE OF SEVEN: CANTO 3. PALACE OF THE GNOMES by MARIA GOWEN BROOKS THE WANDERER: 1. IN ITALY: ROOT AND LEAF by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |