ON the Righi Kulm we stood, Lovely Floribel and I, While the morning's crimson flood Streamed along the eastern sky. Reddened every mountain peak Into rose, from twilight dun; But the blush upon her cheek Was not lighted by the sun! On the Righi Kulm we sat, Lovely Floribel and I, Plucking bluebells for her hat From a mound that blossomed night. "We are near to heaven," she sighed, While her raven lashes fell. "Nearer," softly I replied, "Than the mountain's height may tell." Down the Righi's side we sped, Lovely Floribel and I, But her morning blush had fled, And the bluebells all were dry. Of the height the dream was born; Of the lower air it died; And the passion of the morn Flagged and fell at eventide. From the breast of blue Lucerne Lovely Floribel and I Saw the brand of sunset burn On the Righi Kulm, and die. And we wondered, gazing thus, If our dream would still remain On the height, and wait for us Till we climb to heaven again! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE VISION OF JUDGEMENT by GEORGE GORDON BYRON THE MAD GARDENER'S SONG by CHARLES LUTWIDGE DODGSON JIM BLUDSO [OF THE PRAIRIE BELLE] by JOHN MILTON HAY THE BATTLE OF NASEBY by THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY SOUTH WIND by SIEGFRIED SASSOON TO FOREIGN LANDS by WALT WHITMAN MEMORY'S VISIT by DEAN ALETTA BAILLIE |