THE blent delight of summer! Far and faint The hills, hard by the hayfield's fragrancy, And yonder bosky thicket whence to me Floated last night the thrush's mellow plaint, Fit sound to woo the moon. No cloud-flecks taint The crystal sky that is so calm to see; The heyday of the birds is come, the glee Of brooks is heard; each tree stands like a saint In chastened meditation. When the bard Birth-claimed of seven cities oped his eyes (Not blind as yet) upon a world more young, Naught was more lovely. Here in fairest guise Beauty still waits upon the golden tongue To show her forth, for man's most fond regard. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...I AM NOT YOURS by SARA TEASDALE THE SANDPIPER by CELIA LEIGHTON THAXTER THE LANDLADY'S DAUGHTER by JOHANN LUDWIG UHLAND THE ARTILLERYMAN'S VISION by WALT WHITMAN MIRANDA'S SUPPER (VIRGINIA, 1866) by ELINOR WYLIE ODES: BOOK 1. ODE 1. PREFACE by MARK AKENSIDE |