FERVID on the glitt'ring flood Now the noon-tide radiance glows: Drooping o'er its infant bud, Not a dew-drop's left the rose. By the brook the shepherd dines, From the fierce meridian heat Shelter'd by the branching pines Pendant o'er his grassy seat. Now the flock forsakes the glade, Where uncheck'd the sun-beams fall, Sure to find a pleasing shade By the ivy'd abbey wall. Echo, in her airy round, O'er the river, rock, and hill, Cannot catch a single sound, Save the clack of yonder mill. Cattle court the zephyrs bland, Where the streamlet wanders cool, Or with languid silence stand Midway in the marshy pool. But from mountain, dell or stream, Not a flutt'ring zephyr springs; Fearful lest the noon-tide beam Scorch its soft, its silken wings. Not a leaf has leave to stir, Nature's lull'd -- serene and still! Quiet e'en the shepherd's cur, Sleeping on the heath-clad hill. Languid is the landscape round, 'Till the fresh descending show'r, Grateful to the thirsty ground Raises every fainting flower. Now the hill -- the hedge -- is green, Now the warbler's throat's in tune! Blithesome is the verdant scene, Brighten'd by the beams of noon. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON THE SALE OF MY FARM by ROBERT FROST PURSUIT OF THE WORD by ROBERT FROST BUT NOW by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SONG BY THE WINDOW BEFORE BED by KATHERINE MANSFIELD OCTAVES: 7 by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON |