A HIGHLAND glen and one white cottage there: He watched it from the hills, and when the sun Sank, and the rocks' recumbent majesty Rolled in dark billows to the distant sea, Dropping toward the vale he knew that one Walked in the fragrant dusk divinely fair, His soul's white wonder for eternity. Well shapen, like a goddess, where the brook Sang in the twilight, silently she moved; The wild flowers sleeping on the mountain side, And that wan lake the Titan's slumbering bride Loved her, and he too looked on her and loved: Oh, and her deep eyes answered him that look! 'Twere well if in that rapture he had died! They spoke; she gave him water from the stream: "Drink! you are thirsty climbing all the day!" Her white hands drew the wave and filled the bowl; He drank, and thought Heaven dropped an aureole Upon her brow, and all the girl's array Shone like the Holy Virgin's : so his dream Apparelled her, and so within his soul This virgin bore the Christ. Now fifteen years His feet clomb other rocks, and grew full sore, But stumbled not nor often went astray; For that one draught upheld him all the way. Ah, when he ranged the lonely hills no more, But blindly groped to cross the glen of tears I wonder, did she touch his lips and say, "Drink! you are thirsty, climbing all the day." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE THAW by HAYDEN CARRUTH FLOWER GUIDANCE by ROBERT FROST STORIES ARE MADE OF MISTAKES by JAMES GALVIN PENDULUM by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE GULF by KATHERINE MANSFIELD DOMESDAY BOOK: ARCHIBALD LOWELL by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |