Back arching: so See her bending low To suckle with her waters Earth's lovely daughters. Her upper half is like A twanging bow, to strike With a liquid tide Of arrows every side. Or she is a sphere Celestial, her sheer Waters meteors hurled Upon a barren world. The slim boughs entrance Her with their swaying dance; Behold her twirling, Her sharp swords whirling. Not of thirst she groans I think, nor moans Parched, her shoulder-blade Drenched in that cascade. Suppose her then a maid Singing, and the glade A drinker, all a throng Of wine and song: Her sprinkled dew Over the dark hue White gifts to the black Importuning of lack. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CHRISTMAS BELLS by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 90. 'RETRO ME, SATHANA!' by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE TRIUMPH OF TIME by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE WINDOW TRIMMER by MARGARET LEE ASHLEY NEW JERSEY by FRED CLARE BALDWIN SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 8 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING TANNHAUSER; OR, THE BATTLE OF THE BARDS by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |