FOR miles beyond the orange river The olive orchards gleam and shiver, And, at the river's brink as pale, The ranks of moonlit rushes quiver. And somewhere in a hidden vale The unseen and secret nightingale Her olden woe doth still deliver, Though all the orchards know the tale. O magic of the South! Whenever Your sweet dissolving breezes sever About my heart the bands of mail, I too would sing, and sing for ever! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FAIREST THING IN MORTAL EYES by CHARLES D'ORLEANS BITTER-SWEET: CRADLE SONG [OR, BABYHOOD] by JOSIAH GILBERT HOLLAND THE FALL OF HYPERION; A DREAM by JOHN KEATS STRANGE MEETINGS: 1 by HAROLD MONRO A DESCRIPTION OF A CITY SHOWER by JONATHAN SWIFT THE MORAL FABLES: THE FOX, THE WOLF, AND THE HUSBANDMAN by AESOP |