To wolfish knights with hound and hooded hawk He speaks in vain of Lord Christ's fair demesne, For like a bow-shot where the larches lean Leap hart and hind their baying pack will stalk; With thoughts upon the hunt, they hear him talk Of Light, whose shapes are varied as the sheen On sunshot plumes -- blue purpling into green -- That peacocks spread along his garden walk. Down leafy coverts sweet with briar and brake The shaggy hunters watch the dappled herds And heed the summons of a silver horn, Unwitting that the clarion voice will wake The Western Isles, that through his ringing words The last great echoes of far Greece are borne. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A TRIP TO PARIS AND BELGIUM: 16. ANTWERP TO GHENT by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI PATROLING BARNEGAT by WALT WHITMAN THE HYMNARY: 403. MARTYRS by ADAM OF SAINT VICTOR S. MATTHIAS by JOSEPH BEAUMONT ASPIRATIONS: 10 by MATHILDE BLIND THE CLOISTER OF THE FALLING SNOW by SYLVIA HORTENSE BLISS |