The morning wears a misty crown Of gold, hung in the sky. In a golden pond black rushes drown, Tall catkins throw grey shadows down Across my boat, in a shielding frown, Where wait my dog and I. A thrilling cry, though nothing seen, This is the hunter's fun. Where blue and gold maze into green, In a true straight V shape come fifteen Grey travelers, and their call rings keen. I do not lift my gun. I sit and watch them wing away Into some other land. A tapestry of gold and grey Thrown 'cross the sky at break of day, In mem'ry woven, e'er to stay, By God's own dext'rous hand. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WEDDING BED IN MANGKUTANA by KAREN SWENSON FONTAINEBLEAU (AUTUMN) by SARA TEASDALE A PRAYER TO THE WIND by THOMAS CAREW THE ANGEL'S SONG; CAROL by EDMUND HAMILTON SEARS QUATRAIN: FROM EASTERN SOURCES: 3 by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH GUINEVERE TO LANCELOT by ROBERT BATSON FRAGMENTS OF A POEM ON THE EXCELLENCE OF CHRISTIANITY by JAMES HAY BEATTIE |