Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, PASTORAL: 4, by GEORGE MEREDITH


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

PASTORAL: 4, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Lo, as a tree, whose wintry twigs
Last Line: Turn all its silver sides and tremble into song.
Subject(s): Seasons


Lo, as a tree, whose wintry twigs
Drink in the sun with fibrous joy,
And down into its dampest roots
Thrills quickened with the draught of life,
I wake unto the dawn, and leave my griefs to drowse.

I rise and drink the fresh sweet air:
Each draught a future bud of Spring;
Each glance of blue a birth of green;
I will not mimic yonder oak
That dallies with dead leaves ev'n while the primrose peeps.

But full of these warm-whispering beams,
Like Memnon in his mother's eye, --
Aurora! when the statue stone
Moaned soft to her pathetic touch, --
My soul shall own its parent in the founts of day!

And ever in the recurring light,
True to the primal joy of dawn,
Forget its barren griefs; and aye
Like aspens in the faintest breeze
Turn all its silver sides and tremble into song.





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