HEAT of the sun that maketh all men black, -- They are but Ethiopian shades of thee -- Pour down upon this wild and glittering fleece That is more rich than feathers of bright birds The ripening gems, the drops of the still night. I parch for that still shade, my heat of love That parched those ripening gems hath withered me. Come with the African pomp and train of waves, Give me your darkness, my immortal shade, Beside the waterwells my heart hath known. The shepherds hairy-rough as satyrs come, Bring up their fleeces that are waterfull With freshness clear as precious gums of trees Where weep the incense trees from some deep smart, So the fresh water from your fleece flows in To fill with richness all my desert heart. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OH YOU ARE COMING by SARA TEASDALE THE SONG FOR COLIN by SARA TEASDALE BALLADE AGAINST THE ENEMIES OF FRANCE by FRANCOIS VILLON THE BLESSED DAMOZEL by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI OUT FROM A DREAM by ELLA ALLISON HEAVEN AND EARTH by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING HUGH STUART BOYD: LEGACIES by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |