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First Line: Over this azure poplar glade
Last Line: Like that white globe beyond the leaves!
Alternate Author Name(s): Maitland, Thomas
Subject(s): Athens, Greece


OVER this azure poplar glade
The sunshine, fainting high above,
Ebbs back from woolly clouds that move
Like browsing lambs and cast no shade;
And straight before me, faintly seen
Through emerald boughs that intervene,
The visible sun turns white and weaves
Long webs of silver through the leaves.
The grassy sward beneath my foot
Is soft as lips of lambs and beeves.
How cool those lilies at the root
Of yonder tree, that dimly dance
Through dews of their own radiance!
Yonder I see the river run,
Half in the shade, half in the sun;
And as I near its rushy brink
The sparkling minnows, where they lie
With silver bellies to the sky,
Flash from me in a shower and sink.
I stand in shadows cool and sweet,
But in the mirror at my feet
The heated azure heavens wink.

All round about this shaded spot,
Whither the sunshine cometh not,
Where all is beautiful repose, --
I know the kindled landskip glows;
And further, flutter golden showers
On proud Athenai white with towers,
And catching from the murmurous sea
(Stained with deep shadows as of flowers,
And darkening down to purple bowers
Through which the sword-fish darts in glee),
A strife that cometh not to me.
For in this place of shade and sound,
Hid from the garish heat around,
I feel like one removed from strain
And fever of the happy brain, --
Where thoughts thrill fiery into pain:
Like one who, in the pleasant shade
The peaceful pulseless dead have made,
Walking in silence, just perceives
The gaudy world from which he went
Subdue itself to his content,
Like that white globe beyond the leaves!





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