There is, upon my homeward walk, a place Where I must always stop; a deep, still pond, From whose green banks the katydids respond, With their sharp treble, to the bull-frogs' bass. O beautiful the spot where the wild stream, Merged in these calmer waters, finds its end! Here, in the shadowy eve, the willows bend In moveless shapes, like phantoms of a dream. Not far off stands a mill among the trees, (Of laboring strength with loveliness the type) And ofttimes have I watched, lying at mine ease, The white steam curling from the iron pipe, Unfolding its thin substance to the air. Like some tall, graceful plant, up-springing there. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE WHEEL OF BEING I by HAYDEN CARRUTH TO KNOW IN REVERIE THE ONLY PHENOMENOLOGY OF THE ABSOLUTE by HAYDEN CARRUTH PUSSY-WILLOW TIME by ROBERT FROST SONNET TO THOSE WHO SEE BUT DARKLY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON VENUS IN A GARDEN by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON GOD AND MY COUNTRY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |