BESIDE the creek where seldom oar or sail Adventures, and the gulls whistling like men Patrol the pasture of the falling tide, Like Timon's mansion stands the silent kiln. Half citadel, half temple, strong it stands With layered stones built into cavernous curves, The fire-vault now as cool as leaves and stones And dews can be. Here came my flitting thought, The only visitor of a sunny day, Except the half-mad wasp that fights with all, The leaping cricket in his apple-green, And emerald beetle with his golden helmet; While the south wind woke all the colony Of sorrels and sparse daisies, berried ivies And thorns bowed down with sloes, and brambles red Offering a feast that no child came to take. In these unwanted derelicts of man Nature has touched the picture with a smile Of more than usual mystery; the far heights With thunderous forest marshalled are her toil, But this her toy, her petty larceny That pleased her, lurking like a gipsy girl. My thought came here with artfulness like hers To spy on her, and, though she fled, pursued To where on eastern islands, in the cells Of once grave seers, her iris woos the wind. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ELF AND THE DORMOUSE by OLIVER BROOK HERFORD SNOWBOUND by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER JEFFERSON DAVIS by WALKER MERIWETHER BELL ROSE D'AMOUR by MATHILDE BLIND POMEGRANATES by RUTH FOSS BREWER ZOPHIEL; OR THE BRIDE OF SEVEN: CANTO 6. BRIDAL OF HELEN by MARIA GOWEN BROOKS WINTER SONG by ABBIE FARWELL BROWN |