Great August, lord of golden lands, Whose lordly joy through seas and strands And all the red-ripe heart of earth Strikes passion deep as life, and stills The folded vales and folding hills With gladness too divine for mirth, The gracious glories of thine eyes Make night a noon where darkness dies. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 41 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING AT LULWORTH COVE A CENTURY BACK by THOMAS HARDY MILK FOR THE CAT by HAROLD MONRO SILENCE SINGS by THOMAS STURGE MOORE THE MEN BEHIND THE GUNS by JOHN JEROME ROONEY A DREAM OF FAIR WOMEN by ALFRED TENNYSON |