Sunset dreams on fir-tree cones, Green—the hedge, and brown—the field; Mossy rifts in weathered stones Meekly vernal waters yield. Oh, look up the wooded steep— God has touched it with his palm; Piously wild berries weep, Listening to the grassy psalm. And I feel no fleshly tie; And my heart's a springing mead. Come, ye pilgrims white and shy, Peck the early wheaten seed. Tender evening twilight searches Cottage windows, gabled byres, And the leaves of slender birches Glimmer soft as wedding fires. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BEAST OF BURDEN by MARIANNE MOORE VISIONS: 4. A ROSE by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) THE BROKEN HEART by JOHN DONNE A DESCRIPTION OF A CITY SHOWER by JONATHAN SWIFT PENTUCKET [AUGUST 29, 1708] by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER THOREAU by AMOS BRONSON ALCOTT |