THE valley rolls to the river And the river is tinged with fire, As the beams of the sunset quiver Like the strings of a golden lyre. And the hills, like sentinels olden, In burnished steel they glow, While a kiss of the sunset, golden, They toss to the valley below. The valley rolls to the river, But the cheek of the river is wan, Like the lips of a maid, when the giver Of the kiss in the twilight is gone. But the sentinel hills are bolder; Like giants in gloom they grow, And with forest of guns at the shoulder, They guard the valley below. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DINNER IN A QUICK LUNCH ROOM by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET REGARDING CHAINSAWS by HAYDEN CARRUTH THEY ACCUSE ME OF NOT TALKING by HAYDEN CARRUTH BEAUTY THAT IS NEVER OLD by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE REWARD by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE GARDEN BY MOONLIGHT by AMY LOWELL |