How strangely on that haunted morn Was from the West a vision born, Madeira from the blue! Sweet Heavens! how fairy-like and fair Those headlands shaped themselves in air, That magic mountain grew! I clomb the hills; but where was gone The illusion and the joy thereon, The glamour and the gleam? My nameless need I hardly wist, And missing knew not what I missed, Bewildered in a dream. And then I found her; ah, and then On amethystine glade and glen The soft light shone anew; On windless labyrinths of pine, Seaward, and past the grey sea-line, To isles beyond the view. 'Twas something pensive, 'twas a sense Of solitude, of innocence, Of bliss that once had been;— Interpretress of earth and skies, She looked with visionary eyes The Spirit of the scene. Oh not again, oh never more I must assail the enchanted shore, Nor these regrets destroy, Which still my hidden heart possess With dreams too dear for mournfulness, Too vanishing for joy. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MERLIN'S PROPHESY by WILLIAM BLAKE TO A FRIEND by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 83. BARREN SPRING by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE BRONZE STATUE OF NAPOLEON by AUGUSTE BARBIER PSALM 104 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE 1916 SEEN FROM 1921 by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE TRUCE by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE |