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MOUNTAIN LAUREL, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: I have been wandering in the lonely valleys
Last Line: Wild laurel for me!
Subject(s): Mountain Laurel


(The Green Mountain Poet sings)

I HAVE been wandering in the lonely valleys,
Where mountain laurel grows;
And, in among the rocks, and the tall dark pine-trees
The foam of its young bloom flows,
In a riot of dawn-coloured stars, all drenched with the
dew-fall,
And musical with the bee.
Let the fog-bound cities over their dead wreaths quarrel.
Wild laurel for me!

Wild laurel! -- moun'tain laurel! --
Bright as the breast of a cloud at break of day,
White flowering laurel, wild mountain laurel,
Rose-dappled snowdrifts, warm with the honey of May!
On the happy hill-sides, in the green valleys of Connecticut,
Where the trout-streams go carolling to the sea,
I have walked with the lovers of song and heard them
singing
Wild laurel for me!

Far, far away is the throng that has never known
beauty,
Or looked upon unstained skies.
Did they think that our songs would scramble for
withered bay-leaves
In the streets where the brown fig lies?
They never have seen their wings, then, beating west-
ward,
To the heights where song is free,
To the hills where laurel is drenched with the dawn's
own colours,
Wild laurel for me!

Wild laurel! -- moun'tain laurel --
Where Robert o'Lincoln sings in the dawn and the dew.
White-flowering laurel --wild mountain laurel,
Where song springs fresh from the heart, and the heart is
true!
They have gathered the sheep of their fold, but where is the
eagle?
They have bridled their steeds, but when have they tamed
the sea?
They have caged the wings, but never the heart of the singer.
Wild laurel for me!

If I never should see you again, O, lost companions,
When the rose-red month begins,
With the wood-smoke curling blue by the Indian river,
And the sound of the violins,
In dreams the breath of your green glens would still
haunt me,
Where night and her stars, drawing down on blossom
and tree,
Turn earth to heaven, and whisper their love till day
break.
Wild laurel for me!

Wild laurel -- moun'tain laurel --
O, mount again, wild wings, to the stainless blue,
White-flowering laurel, wild mountain laurel,
And all the glory of song that the young heart knew.
I have lived. I have loved. I have sung in the happy
valleys,
Where the trout-streams go carolling to the sea.
I have met the lovers of song in the sunset bringing
Wild laurel for me!




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