(@3The Green Mountain Poet sings@1) I HAVE been wandering in the lonely valleys, Where mountain laurel grows; And, in among the rocks, and the tall dark pine-trees The foam of its young bloom flows, In a riot of dawn-coloured stars, all drenched with the dew-fall, And musical with the bee. Let the fog-bound cities over their dead wreaths quarrel. @3Wild@1 laurel for me! @3Wild laurel! -- moun'tain laurel! -- Bright as the breast of a cloud at break of day, White flowering laurel, wild mountain laurel, Rose-dappled snowdrifts, warm with the honey of May! On the happy hill-sides, in the green valleys of Connecticut, Where the trout-streams go carolling to the sea, I have walked with the lovers of song and heard them singing Wild laurel for me!@1 Far, far away is the throng that has never known beauty, Or looked upon unstained skies. Did they think that our songs would scramble for withered bay-leaves In the streets where the brown fig lies? They never have seen their wings, then, beating west- ward, To the heights where song is free, To the hills where laurel is drenched with the dawn's own colours, @3Wild@1 laurel for me! @3Wild laurel! -- moun'tain laurel -- Where Robert o'Lincoln sings in the dawn and the dew. White-flowering laurel --wild mountain laurel, Where song springs fresh from the heart, and the heart is true! They have gathered the sheep of their fold, but where is the eagle? They have bridled their steeds, but when have they tamed the sea? They have caged the wings, but never the heart of the singer. Wild laurel for me!@1 If I never should see you again, O, lost companions, When the rose-red month begins, With the wood-smoke curling blue by the Indian river, And the sound of the violins, In dreams the breath of your green glens would still haunt me, Where night and her stars, drawing down on blossom and tree, Turn earth to heaven, and whisper their love till day break. @3Wild@1 laurel for me! @3Wild laurel -- moun'tain laurel -- O, mount again, wild wings, to the stainless blue, White-flowering laurel, wild mountain laurel, And all the glory of song that the young heart knew. I have lived. I have loved. I have sung in the happy valleys, Where the trout-streams go carolling to the sea. I have met the lovers of song in the sunset bringing Wild laurel for me!@1 | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WOMEN MEN'S SHADOWS by BEN JONSON ULTIMA THULE: THE TIDE RISES by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW FOR MY OWN TOMBSTONE by MATTHEW PRIOR CHARACTERS: SUSANNAH BARBAULD MARISSAL by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 3. INSCRIBED ON A MUMMY CASE, BRITISH MUSEUM by EDWARD CARPENTER BLESSED ARE THEY THAT HAVE NOT SEEN! by ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH |