PALE opal summits of far mountains peeped Behind the slope's broad green and the rising track; Along the ridge, in evening silence steeped, The she-oaks stood like hearse-plumes, still and black. Past hoof-holes and washed stones my great boots crashed; Except for this tramping clamour the world was stilled; Sun slanted over the slope and faintly flashed Along the line of wheel ruts, water-filled. From over the farther side some vision unbound Was calling me, a dim bell in a beyond; I kept on, sturdily tramping the squelching ground, Until I crossed the slope and saw that pond. A pond by a wall of banksia stemmed my haste; Seven trees a side were grouped in a chancel-arch, While under and over the hurrying sunlight laced The boles, the boughs, the leaves and the stunted larch. 'Twas like a bell calling my heart to school: Grey water and grey trees in a grey hill, Two mottled patches of old gold on a pool And, from her own shadow, a brown cow sucking her fill. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MARSHALL WASHER by HAYDEN CARRUTH BATTLE OF BRITAIN by CECIL DAY LEWIS RETURN (1) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON ROMANCE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SPRING DAY: NIGHT AND SLEEP by AMY LOWELL THE CRESCENT MOON by AMY LOWELL DOMESDAY BOOK: GOTTLIEB GERALD by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |