Through vales of Thrace, Peneus' stream is flowing Past legend-peopled hillsides to the deep; From Paestum's rose-hung plains soft winds are blowing; The halls of Amber lie in haunted sleep; The Cornish sea is silent with the Summer That once bore Iseult from the Irish shore; And lovely lone Fiesole is dumber Than when Lorenzo's garland-guests it wore. This eve for us the emerald clearness glowing Over the stream, where late was ruddy might, Whispers a wonder, dumb to other knowing, — Known but to you, the silence, and the night. Our boat drifts breathless; the last light is dying; Stars, dawn, shall find us here together lying. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPISTLE IN FORM OF A BALLAD TO HIS FRIENDS by FRANCOIS VILLON THE WHITE ISLAND, OR PLACE OF THE BLEST by ROBERT HERRICK THE MAHOGANY TREE by WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY TO THE MARQUIS LA FAYETTE by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD THREE MINUS ONE (REFRAIN SUGGESTED BY DR. RICHARD HOFFMAN) by BERTON BRALEY LIFE by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE WANDERER: 2. IN FRANCE: THE NOVEL by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |