By this low fire I often sit to woo Memory to bring the days forever done, And call the mountains where our love begun And the dear happy woodlands dipped in dew, And pore upon the landscape like a book But cannot find her: or there rise to me Gardens and groves in light and shadow outspread; Or on a headland far away I see Men marching slow in orderly review, And bayonets flash as, wheeling from the sun, Rank after rank give fire: or sad, I look On miles of moonlit brine, with many a bed Of wave weed heaving. There the wet sands shine And just awash, the low reef lifts its line. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AN EXPLANATION by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: OAKS TUTT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS A PRAISE OF HIS LADY by JOHN HEYWOOD RECESSIONAL (1) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE WANING MOON by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY COWBOY VERSUS BRONCHO by JAMES BARTON ADAMS CYNTHIA SPORTING by PHILIP AYRES MEASUREMENTS by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON JERUSALEM; THE EMANATION OF THE GIANT ALBION: CHAPTER 3 by WILLIAM BLAKE |