BEYOND a ridge of pine with russet tips The west lifts to the sun her longing lips, Her bushes stain with gold and garnet dye The shore, the river and the wide far sky; Like floods of wine the waters filter through The reeds that brush our indolent canoe. I beach the bow where sands in shadows lie; You hold my hand a space, then speak good-bye. Upwinds your pathway through the yellow plumes Of goldenrod, profuse in August blooms And o'er its tossing sprays you toss a kiss; A moment more, and I see only this— The idle paddle you so lately held, The empty bow your pliant wrist propelled, Some thistles purpling into violet, Their blossoms with a thousand thorns afret, And like a cobweb, shadowy and grey, Far floats their down—far drifts my dream away. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS by JAMES BEATTIE MARCELIA; A TRAGICOMEDY, SELECTION by FRANCES BOOTHBY ADDRESS TO BEELZEBUB by ROBERT BURNS CRISPUS ATTUCKS by OLIVA WARD BUSH TO MY COUSIN CAREW RALEGH MARRYING MY LADY ALTHAM by THOMAS CAREW |