Leans now the fair willow, dreaming Amid her locks of green. In the driving snow she was parched and cold, And in midnight hath been Swept by blasts of the void night, Lashed by the rains. Now of that wintry dark and bleak No memory remains. In mute desire she sways softly; Thrilling sap up-flows; She praises God in her beauty and grace, Whispers delight. And there flows A delicate wind from the Southern seas, Kissing her leaves. She sighs. While the birds in her tresses make merry; Burns the Sun in the skies. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOROTHY'S DOWER by PHOEBE CARY MY MADONNA by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE RAIN by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 35. AL-GHAFIR by EDWIN ARNOLD THE NEW JERUSALEM by AUGUSTINE |