THE wind through the summer woods blows cool, So I walk with quiet pace, But I stop a little at the pool, And again I see your face. Just where the pale primroses peep Above the dimpling stream, I see as in some magic sleep A form to suit my dream. And bright, and warm, and sweet to view It grows distinct and fair, As if the waves were mirrors true And you were looking there: All just the same as you stood that day, When the wind was low and cool, With your feet on the wild-flowers where they lay, And your shadow in the pool. But I could not reach the one wild rose That in your hand was seen; For still as thought and act would close, The pool grew up between. Ah heart, ah heart, I turn away From the dreams of my idle brain, And sigh to think that this summer day Hath power to bring me pain; For how many things in my little life Have offer'd unto me Their fresh sweet hopes with blossoms rife As the spring-buds on a tree. But still as my hand would make display To gather what was seen, Like the silent pool by the forest way A gap grew up between. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TRANSLUCENT FINGERS by MALCOLM COWLEY FOR THE INVESTITURE by CECIL DAY LEWIS DOWN BY THE CARIB SEA: 6. SUNSET IN THE TROPICS by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE BOOK OF STONES AND LILIES by AMY LOWELL DOMEDAY BOOK: MIRIAM FAY'S LETTER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS HITS AND RUNS by CARL SANDBURG |