Green sanctuaries in the hills, Alluring, pure and sweet, Across the winter's snow, my dream, In summer, my retreat. Belated dawns that struggle through The aisles of woodlands dim, That stretch to noon-tide's royal light, And on to sunset's rim. Pale columbines with trumpets set, Pipe through those temples fair, St. Catherine's lace with incense burns, And harebells ring for prayer. O summer, in Montana's hills, So far from winter's thrall, With blooms that reach from base to ridge, Gay coronets for all! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BLACK RIDERS: 9 by STEPHEN CRANE THE HAND OF LINCOLN by EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN THE SAILOR BOY by ALFRED TENNYSON TO THE STATES. TO IDENTIFY THE 16TH, 17TH, OR 18TH PRESIDENTIAD by WALT WHITMAN JOHN CHARLES FREMONT by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER |