ON my hangings of arras Dewdrop and sunlight commingle, The music of woods that are endless, And infinite seas That come with the voices Of storm or of calm to the shingle In the lilac grey blush of the dawn, On the sensuous breeze. So full of promise is earth As a child's gentle laughter, The sapphire tints of the water Are fair to the eyes — The present is only, I know not a past nor hereafter, And forth from my covering Of saffron and ermine I rise. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ESTHER; A YOUNG MAN'S TRAGEDY: 51 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THALATTA! THALATTA!; CRY OF THE TEN THOUSAND by JOSEPH BROWNLEE BROWN ONLY A YEAR' by HARRIET BEECHER STOWE THE NATIVE LAND by FRANCISCO DE ALDANA |