The islands called me far away, The valleys called me home. The rivers with a silver voice Drew on my heart to come. The paths reached tendrils to my hair From every vine and tree. There was no refuge anywhere Until I came to thee. There is a northern cloud I know, Along a mountain crest; And as she folds her wings of mist, So I could make my rest. There is no chain to bind her so Unto that purple height; And she will shine and wander, slow, Slow, with a cloud's delight. Would she begone? She melts away, A heavenly joyous thing. Yet day will find the mountain white, White-folded with her wing. As you may see, but half aware If it be late or soon, Soft breathing on the day-time air, The fair forgotten Moon. And though love cannot bind me, Love, -- Ah no! -- yet I could stay Maybe, with wings forever spread, -- Forever, and a day. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RAZOR-SELLER by JOHN WOLCOTT ON A FOUNTAIN AND ITS ARCHITECT by PHILIP AYRES TO MISS FERRIER; ENCLOSING THE ELEGY ON SIR J. H. BLAIR by ROBERT BURNS TO EMMA by SOPHIA (RAYMOND) BURRELL TO DIVES; A FRAGMENT by GEORGE GORDON BYRON TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 3. ELDER SOLDIER IN BROTHERHOOD TO THE YOUNGER by EDWARD CARPENTER |