FAR from the rustlings of the poplar-bough, Which o'er my opening life wild music made, Far from the green hills with their heathery glow And flashing streams whereby my childhood played; In the dim city, 'midst the sounding flow Of restless life, to thee in love I turn, O thou rich Sky! and from thy splendours learn How song-birds come and part, flowers wane and blow. With thee all shapes of glory find their home, And thou hast taught me well, majestic dome! By stars, by sunsets, by soft clouds which rove Thy blue expanse, or sleep in silvery rest, That Nature's God hath left @3no@1 spot unblessed With founts of beauty for the eye of love. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LAST WORD by MATTHEW ARNOLD TOM MOONEY by WILLIAM ELLERY LEONARD ON THE SLAIN COLLEGIANS by HERMAN MELVILLE THE ROMANCE OF THE LILY by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES JOB 3:3-26. JOB CURSETH THE DAY, AND SERVICES OF HIS BIRTH by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE |