I took her thither on the morrow's dawn: With backs against our City's westward land, We stood amid the thickets hand in hand, Where men as yet had made no walk nor lawn; From where the Indian beauty seemed withdrawn Scarcely as yet, and Indian solitude Seemed on the glittering waters, on the wood, And on the banded clouds of that Spring dawn. And then I counted paces left and right Along the slope: "Look, here between the brush We'll set our house, facing the morning light, And waken with the wakening of the thrush" (The bird that she loved best) . . . She nodded head, She smiled. . . "Not so?" . . . "Dear husband, yes," she said. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ODE ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF CLAPHAM ACADEMY by THOMAS HOOD HAWTHORNE by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW SONNET: 14. ON THE RELIGIOUS MEMORY OF CATHERINE THOMASON by JOHN MILTON TO THE SHAH (1) by AWHAD AD-DIN 'ALI IBN VAHID MUHAMMAD KHAVARANI THE SINGERS OF DELLA ROBBIA by ALFRED BARRETT WHAT SAID THE LITTLE ADMIRAL? by WILLIAM ROSE BENET THE FLYING WORDS by MORRIS GILBERT BISHOP |