Most lovely Dark, my Aethiopia born Of the shade's richest splendour, leave not me Where in the pomp and splendour of the shade The dark air's leafy plumes no more a lulling music made. Dark is your fleece, and dark the airs that grew Amid those weeping leaves. Plantations of the East drop precious dew That, ripened by the light, rich leaves perspire. Such are the drops that from the dark airs' feathers flew. Most lovely Shade . . . Syrinx and Dryope And that smooth nymph that changed into a tree Are dead . . . the shade, that Aethiopia, sees Their beauty make more bright its treasuries -- Their amber blood in porphyry veins still grows Deep in the dark secret of the rose And the smooth stem of many a weeping tree, And in your beauty grows. Come then, my pomp and splendour of the shade Most lovely cloud that the hot sun made black As dark-leaved airs, -- Come then, O precious cloud, Lean to my heart: no shade of a rich tree Shall pour such splendour as your heart to me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...JOGGIN' ERLONG by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR RIDDLE: TEETH AND GUMS by MOTHER GOOSE SUMMER'S LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT: AUTUMN by THOMAS NASHE THE WIDOW; SAPPHICS by ROBERT SOUTHEY THE LOST LADY: SONG by WILLIAM BERKLEY COUPLETS IN PRAISE by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |