'I WILL praise her sweet gentleness,' I said, And wandered out toward the approaching moon; I wandered out remembering how red The sunset was, how sweltering the noon. A soft grey slip of bush track turned between Two lonely houses and a sawyer's shed Into a clump of beech I knew was green And, rising, lost itself at the spurhead. 'It is her gentleness,' I said aloud -- Or thought sounds noisy in a buried day -- The groaning summer hills screened in a cloud Of cooling showers had hidden the moon away. Like leaves in sunlight, rustled words in thought Trembling upon disclosure. Her sweet worth Eluded every lead. The slow wind brought An odour of rain that sunk in the parched earth. 'Her goodness!' Why in vanity pursue That baulk? ... But I remember to this day The thirsty ranges fading from my view In showers and a slim track lost in grey. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MEASURE OF THE YEAR by JAMES GALVIN CHAMBER MUSIC: 35 by JAMES JOYCE TO TWO UNKNOWN LADIES by AMY LOWELL MADMAN OF THE SOUTH SIDE by CLARENCE MAJOR TO A FRIEND IN THE MAKING by MARIANNE MOORE |