Classic and Contemporary Poetry
HYMN OF THE FORESTS, by WILLIAM SHARP Poet's Biography First Line: We are the harps which the winds play Last Line: While round the circling seasons swing. Alternate Author Name(s): Macleod, Fiona Subject(s): Earth; Forests; Sea; Singing & Singers; World; Woods; Ocean | ||||||||
We are the harps which the winds play, A myriad tones in one vast sound That the earth hearkens night and day -- A ceaseless music swaying round The whole wide world, each voiceful tree Echoing the wave-chants of the sea. For even as inland waves that moan But break not 'midst the unflowing green Our trees are: and when tempests groan And howl our frantic boughs between, Our tumult is as when the deep Struggles with winds that o'er it sweep. 'Neath bitter northern skies we stand, Silent amidst the unmelting snows, Gaunt warders of the desolate land: Silent, save when the keen wind blows The drifting wreaths about our feet, Then moan we mournful music sweet. Or in vast ancient woods of beech Far south we make Spring's dearest home The haunt of myriad songsters, each A living flow'r made free to roam From bough to bough, and thence we send A forest-music without end. 'Neath tropic suns and ceaseless glow With orient splendours we are filled: 'Midst Austral solitudes we grow, Where seldom human voice has thrilled: And ever and where'er we rise We chant our ancient harmonies. For aye the sea sings loud and long In strange and solemn mystery A wonderful transmitted song -- The echo of all history -- This song o'er all earth's lands we sing While round the circling seasons swing. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HALL OF OCEAN LIFE by JOHN HOLLANDER JULY FOURTH BY THE OCEAN by ROBINSON JEFFERS BOATS IN A FOG by ROBINSON JEFFERS CONTINENT'S END by ROBINSON JEFFERS |
|