BLAND was the Morn, no fault or flaw Sullying her sheen and hue, When, mid the April fields, I saw The Stones of Stanton Drew. Clear-hearted in the golden air The eternal lyrist flew; But dark and full of silence were The Stones of Stanton Drew. Isled and estranged from every mood Of all that lived and grew, Deep in forgotten Time they stood -- The Stones of Stanton Drew. How many ages have gone by Since last a mortal knew Who set you there, and when, and why, O Stones of Stanton Drew? All sunlit was the Earth I trod, The Heaven was frankest blue; But secret as the dreams of God The Stones of Stanton Drew. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OUT WHERE THE WEST BEGINS by ARTHUR CHAPMAN ONE CROWDED HOUR, FR. OLD MORTALITY by WALTER SCOTT AN UNTIMELY THOUGHT by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE PRAYSE OF LADY PECUNIA by RICHARD BARNFIELD THE HUNCHBACK by JOHN PEALE BISHOP THE ORANGE-PEEL IN THE GUTTER by MATHILDE BLIND IN VINCULIS; SONNETS WRITTEN IN AN IRISH PRISON: I WILL SMILE NO MORE by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |