Far from the birds, the cattle herds, the village girls, What did I drink, kneeling in this heather, Surrounded by soft groves of hazel-trees, In the green lukewarm haze of an afternoon? What could I drink from this young stream, the Oise, -Slender elms without speech, turf without blossoms, overcast skies! - Drink in these yellow gourds, far from My cherished hut? Some liquor of gold, which makes sweat. I became a strange-looking signboard for a country inn. -A storm swept through the sky. At night The water of the groves vanished on the pure sands, The breath of God flung icicles on ponds; Weeping, I saw gold-and could not drink. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GOD AND MY COUNTRY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPECIMEN OF AN INDUCTION TO A POEM by JOHN KEATS SUMMER. THE SECOND PASTORAL, OR ALEXIS by ALEXANDER POPE THE BASE OF ALL METAPHYSICS by WALT WHITMAN FITZ-GREENE HALLECK, AT THE UNVEILING OF HIS STATUE by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER |