ON western shores we roamed, and there, Watching a hill that watched the wave, We called him dull in pose and air, A bulk not grand but merely grave; So many mountains had we seen, Lordly of countenance, build, and mien. Then came a snowstorm in the night, And all his ribs of rock, next morn -- All his anatomy -- sprang to light, With form and feature, carved and worn, That rose out of the salt abyss Magnificent in emphasis. Imagine not that thou canst know Mountains or men in very truth, Until the tempest and the snow Strike them at midnight without ruth, Publishing clear, to morning's gaze, The lineaments they strove to erase. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE VISIONARY by EMILY JANE BRONTE CAVALRY CROSSING A FORD by WALT WHITMAN A QUARTET ('THE MIKADO' AT CAMBRIDGE) by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN JOSEPH'S REFORM (A TALE OF THE HOT DOG TAVERN) by BERTON BRALEY AND JESUS WEPT by MATTHEW BRIDGES TOM TWIST by WILLIAM ALLEN BUTLER A PRAYER USED BY FRANCIS I WHEN HE WAS AT WAR WITH CHARLES V by JOHN BYROM |