August with sombre dooms old sagas wail Of life blown as an anvil's leaping spark To flame and fade into the winter dark, Alike with thrall or thane in ambered mail; Yet though the wild seas roared beneath the gale, A serf who wondered at the April lark And blossoms springing from the frozen bark, Found Love within a lonely orchard-vale. But where white branches quickened in the sun, Clothed with their flowers he saw the Rood-Tree gleam And laid his head against Its dewy moss: Shy deer stole from the forest one by one To watch the Saxon harper carve his dream In mystic runes upon a wayside cross. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LITTLE FIRE IN THE WOODS by HAYDEN CARRUTH DESPAIR by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON ENVOYS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON IN QUEST by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON PRIDE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE REWARD by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON |