THIS is the one enchanted minute, All the year's golden meaning in it; Her full fruition and her flower Rained like a golden Danaë shower. The hours run golden in the glass, The hours shake gold-dust on the grass, Where meadows late were brown and grey. This is the kingcup's holiday. The fortunate road runs white, unrolled 'Twixt ribbons of the purest gold. Traveller for Eldorado, ho! This is the way that you must go. Laburnum swings her golden chain; Gold honeysucks by porch and pane Will hoard their sweetest sweets until The gold moon climbs the golden hill. Hear the enamoured nightingale Call over golden fields dew-pale, In the enchanted dusk—oh, hear it! But is it bird, or is it spirit? The wind ruffles the golden trees, And makes his golden melodies. The dawn was golden, and the close Of evening made a golden rose. It is the one enchanted hour, When the year breaks to golden flower. The sands run in the glass—to-morrow, To-morrow looms a golden sorrow. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FROM THE WOOLWORTH TOWER by SARA TEASDALE ODES II, 10 by QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS THE HINT O' HAIRST by HEW AINSLIE AT ONE O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE THE ANGRY ONES by BERTON BRALEY ANSWER TO A BEAUTIFUL POEM ENTITLED 'THE COMMON LOT' by GEORGE GORDON BYRON TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 3. S. JAMES PARK by EDWARD CARPENTER |