THERE were live waters racing down; The air was full of exquisite sound; Rainbows of spray wove them a crown, For pools wherein the sun lay drowned. Streams from the heights of Mangerton, And from the crest of Tore, sweet streams, Golden and brown, came singing on: I hear the music in my dreams. Drip, drip from every rock there fell A fringe of golden water fine, Sweet as dew in the lily-bell, Golden as honey, clear as wine. The streams ran in the roads, the streams Danced through the bracken and the fern, Played hide and seek till there were gleams Of gold water at every turn. The mountains they were still in the sky, No red deer ever stirred in the woods, The eagle kept his eyrie high: These were the loveliest solitudes. The roar of the Tore waterfall Was dreamy, all the lakes lay still; There was no bird singing at all: My heart of music had her fill. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FIRST BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 7 by THOMAS CAMPION THE STARLIGHT NIGHT by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 2 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN TO A BLOCKHEAD by ALEXANDER POPE THE LIVING GOD by ABRAHAM IBN EZRA |