'TWAS the dream of a God, And the mould of His hand, That you shook 'neath His stroke, That you trembled and broke To this beautiful land. Here He loosed from His hold A brown tumult of wings, Till the wind on the sea Bore the strange melody Of an island that sings. He made you all fair, You in purple and gold, You in silver and green, Till no eye that has seen Without love can behold. I have left you behind In the path of the past, With the white breath of flowers, With the best of God's hours, I have left you at last. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LINES ON THE MONUMENT OF GIUSEPPE MAZZINI by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE IMPRESSIONS: LA FUITE DE LA LUNE by OSCAR WILDE ODE; SUNG BY THE CHILDREN OF THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS by W. T. ADAMS THE HUNTER'S SONG by WILLIAM BASSE AN AUTUMN SONNET by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT AUTUMN by JENNIE COPPOCK CAFFREY INSCRIPTION FOR A STONE ERECTED ON A SIMILIAR OCCASION by WILLIAM COWPER |