The sun's hot rays reach to the earth, New substances are given birth. I catch the myriad thoughts The fresh-ploughed field sends up And put them in my mind— A truly magic cup. And when it is filled and overrun, I am bathed in gold light, True progeny of the sun. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MATRES DOLOROSAE by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES A ROMANCE OF THE GANGES by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE ASPIRATION by RHYS CARPENTER THE WAY TO THE ARBUTUS by CATHERINE CATE COBLENTZ ODE: TRYSTING TIME by CONFUCIUS |