LADY, through grasses stiff with rime And wraith-hung trees I wander Where the red sun at pitch of prime Half of his might must squander. Narrow the track As I look back On traces green behind me, -- I go alone To think upon A face, where none Shall find me. Birds peal; but each grim grove its shroud Retains, as to betoken Though the young lawn should wave off cloud These would have Night unbroken, -- Desire no plash Of the Lake awash -- No gold but gold that's glinted In still device From the breast of ice Whose summer cries Have stinted. But in a great and glittering space The black Elm doth restore me To you. Empower'd with patient grace Musing she stands before me; Her webs divine Ghosted with fine Remembrance few can capture; Her very shade On greenness laid Is white, -- is made Of rapture! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...REASONS FOR DRINKING by HENRY ALDRICH TWO RIVERS by RALPH WALDO EMERSON THE PROGRESS OF POESY; A PINDARIC ODE by THOMAS GRAY THE HOLY SCRIPTURES (1) by GEORGE HERBERT ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 72 by PHILIP SIDNEY ON A BEAUTIFUL DAY by JOHN STERLING (1806-1844) |