The wooded hill o'ershades the river's placid brim and in its tranquil depths still further slopes one sees. The dusky half reflects a forest, green and dim, its azure counterpart, the clouds' profundities. Here sails the little skiff of cloudy pearl, and there, not far removed, a raft of branches slowly rides. . . . Sudden beneath my eyes the surges of a weir whelm sail and raft. Dull mist the troubled mirror hides. Images of my dreams, is this your shipwreck drear, raft, wandering sail, to find your harbor in the wave, black vision, vision blue, broken upon the weir, by foaming billows drowned and mingled in the grave? The wooded-hill o'ershades the river's placid brim. On the other bank gold buttercups sway. In the stormy sky cold lightning-flashes pierce the gathering cloud-wrack grim. . . . And still more images will come, alas, to die! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: IMANUEL EHRENHARDT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS WALT WHITMAN by FRANCIS HOWARD WILLIAMS INTROSPECTION by GEORGE ARNOLD PORTRAIT BY PICHER by FRANCES BAKER VERIS ET FAVONI by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 3. IN THE DEEP CAVE OF THE HEART by EDWARD CARPENTER |