O GENTLE rushing of the stainless stream, Haunt of that maiden's dream! O beech and sycamore, whose branches made Her dear ancestral shade! I call you praying; for she felt your power In many an inward hour; To many a wild despairing mood ye gave Some help to heal or save, And sang to heavenlier trances, long and long, Your world-old undersong. Now therefore, if ye may, one moment show One look of long ago; Create from waving sprays and tender dew Her soft fair form anew; From deepening azure of these August skies Relume her ardent eyes! Or if there may not from your sunlit aisle Be born one flying smile,— In all your multitudinous music heard One whisper of one word,— Then wrap me, forest, with thy blowing breath In sleep, in peace, in death; Bear me, swift stream, with immemorial stir, To love, to God, to her. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FUCHSIA HEDGES IN CONNACHT by PADRAIC COLUM IN THE GARDEN (1) by EMILY DICKINSON MOTHER O' MINE by RUDYARD KIPLING CLANCY OF THE MOUNTED POLICE by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 48. AL-WADOOD by EDWIN ARNOLD THE BROOK by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |