THE storm is over; from the rifting blue The sun appears beyond the western field Where now the freshet breaks its channel through Exulting wildly. See, a rose would yield Her tribute to thy hand, dear Zaphna; and see How from the rock beneath the palm tree there The white cascade is hurried noisily Within the grove with dash of foam and blare. Thy presence, Zaphna, seems to light the glen; Sweet hast thou sung the songs of love to me Over and over and the breeze again Borne them on gentle pinions far from thee. Thy voice, beloved, like the breath of morn Sounds through the blossoms glistening everywhere; Ah, turbid stream, cease now thy clamourous scorn As on thou sweepst with dashing foam and blare! Zaphna, thou blushest?—Ah, sweet innocence, Come press to mine those lips of coral rare; And thou lone streamlet, guard our confidence As on thou sweepst with dashing foam and blare. Look now, fair Zaphna, where afloat upon The tide a rosemary is borne away; On glides the current,—soon the flower is gone,— My own, and think'st thou Time less swift than they? Ah, though to-day yon ring-doves passionate Gaze down on us in envy, Time will bear Youth and its charm away and—desolate— The stream will sweep no more with foam and blare. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FRAGMENTS WRITTEN WHILE TRAVELING...A MIDWESTERN HEAT WAVE by JAMES GALVIN LOVELIGHT by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TWO POEMS FROM THE WAR: 2 by ARCHIBALD MACLEISH STUDY FOR A GEOGRAPHICAL TRAIL; 2. ILLINOIS by CLARENCE MAJOR THE GREAT HUNT by CARL SANDBURG |