THE spent winds on the mountain slopes at peace To sleep the swaying branches slowly woo; The still birds drowse in dew; the foaming fleece Is gold with star-beams on the waters blue. Soft mist hides all the mountain tracks and swathes The plunging gullies and the peaks that soar; The sad moon in her light the foliage bathes And sounds of human-kind are heard no more. But on the pebbles sings the unsullied surge, The deep voice of the forest doth intone; The thrilled air bears sea-song and forest-dirge Up to the night upon her star-lit throne. Mount upward holy murmur, divine speech, Be Earth's low tidings unto Heav'n upborne, And ask the serene stars if we may reach Their thrones by an eternal pathway worn. Earth's holy orison of wood and wave Thou hast consoled me in dark days of yore; Me from my barren sorrow thou didst save And in my heart thou singest evermore! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE VIVANDIERE ('70) by WILLIAM ROSE BENET THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 45. FAREWELL TO JULIET (7) by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF ROBERT RUISSEAUX by ROBERT BURNS AN AUSTRALIAN GIRL by ETHEL CASTILLA |