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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
GIFTS, by SARA BARD FIELD First Line: What wide savannas of your thought I tread Last Line: Their purple, gold and crimson round my doors? Alternate Author Name(s): Wood, Charles Erskine Scoot, Mrs. | |||
What wide savannas of your thought I tread, Within what geysers of your wit I leap, Upon what cumulus of pity bed And down what stream of music float to sleep, Not Beatrice's lover, no, nor he Who sang the strange dark lady into fame, Nor yet the passionate tenth muse, not she, Shadow or echo of these gifts could name. And I who stumble even when I sing Far less pulsation of my heart than throbs In contemplation of the wealth you bring, Shall I not fall before a wind that robs The boughs of all October and then pours Their purple, gold and crimson round my doors? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTEMPORARY by SARA BARD FIELD COULD YOU NOT WATCH WITH ME ONE LITTLE HOUR? by SARA BARD FIELD HERB-GATHERER by SARA BARD FIELD LINES TO UNA by SARA BARD FIELD SUCCESSFUL PESSIMIST by SARA BARD FIELD THE ICY ONE by SARA BARD FIELD THE PALE WOMAN by SARA BARD FIELD TOWARD SPACE by SARA BARD FIELD |
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