SHOUT at your sounding sea, Fling it your loud laughter— It will never reply As my hills reply to me: Cry with answering cry, And a last cry following after! Stand on the sand and call— Your tide will go on roaring, And breakers tell of a storm With green and thundering fall; My hills have a voice that is warm With the softness of sun down-pouring. The curves of the answering heights Hold a more distant wonder, Made of mirage and cloud And wavering northern lights; And they will not speak aloud With a dark voice of thunder; But in the high thin air They will answer your calling With a soft golden sound; And if you laugh, they will share Your own loud joy with round Repeated notes down-falling. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IT JUST SO HAPPENS by JAMES GALVIN AFTER WRITING A POEM by DAVID IGNATOW TO CARMEN SYLVA (QUEEN OF ROUMANIA) by EMMA LAZARUS THE DOLL BELIEVERS by CLARENCE MAJOR BOOTH'S PHILIPPI by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE COAT OF FIRE by EDITH SITWELL A PROBLEM IN AESTHETICS by KAREN SWENSON |