A SPRING up-sparkles in the silent forest, Far hid from blazing noon. There rushes quiver, and fain of its cool boon, Bluebells and violets hover. Not goats that crop the bitter-bladed grasses On hilly slopes hard by, Nor shepherds with their flute's suave melody, Have sullied that clear fountain. The tall black oaks by all the bees belovéd, Throw peaceful curtains wide Wherein the wild doves lurk or, drowsy, hide Their heads beneath their feathers. The dawdling stags beside the mossy thickets Draw in the unhastened dew; Under green canopies the light drips through, The lazy sylvans slumber. And the wan Naiad of the sacred fountain Lets fall her lids awhile, Dreaming, half-drowséd; and a happy smile Flits round her mouth's red flower. No yearning eye, love-lit, hath seen that body Beneath its limpid veil All snowy white, with long locks liquid-frail, Asleep on the sand's silver. And none hath seen that cheek of maiden softness, The ivory neck, the line Of that young bosom or the shoulder fine, White arms and lips unsullied. But the lewd faun, alert on the near branches, Spies through the leafy net Her supple body with spilt kisses wet, Beneath the water shining. Thereon he laughs with strident joy inhuman That thrills the arbour cool; And the maid startled, pallid o'er her pool, Wanes out like a blown shadow. Ev'n as the Naiad in the distant woodland Asleep beneath the tide, Fly from the impious hand and eye, and hide Light of the soul, O Beauty! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AT FLORENCE by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH RUTH by CECIL FRANCES ALEXANDER RIDDLE by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE MEADOW STREAM by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN TO A SPIRIT (1) by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN LIFE AND LOVE by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |