The rosy stream rolls down the hill; Bareth her silver heart, the lake; The tall trees, litter-bearers these, Carry the goddess of dawn, who will lave her limbs In the confluence of the lake and the stream. "Festival of light!" chant the bird-priests. The breeze chimes in ecstasy Through the palm-tree on the lea; The wicked sun steals a glance At the Bacchanal of dawn from field to field. "Arise, awake, see!" the barque of light, Drifting through the hollow of the sky In quest of the shadows fleeing far into the land of sleep; While, stringing her lyre with sunbeams, Nature plays her music of life | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SEVEN TWILIGHTS: 7 by CONRAD AIKEN I SING OF LOVE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE MAN WITH THE WOODEN LEG by KATHERINE MANSFIELD THE LEAVES FIRST by CARL PHILLIPS A MILLION YOUNG WORKMEN, 1915 by CARL SANDBURG THE RAND MCNALLY ATLAS by KAREN SWENSON THE JOY OF WRITING by WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA |