In two months more he will come back to me, But now I think of precious moments spent, That last fleet evening passing silently, How quietly and rapidly it went; The sky was dipped with hot volcano fire, The tumbling roofs still knelt like priests at prayers, Resembling citadels of aged Tyre, The grass beneath us green as new-formed pears; Each gold-touched tree-branch drawn against the sky Was God's own portrait etched in dark and light, Fulfilling in each dainty bough just why There is an endless beauty in our sight; In two months more he will come back and find That since a year ago I have been blind. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LACEDEMONIAN INSTRUCTION by WILLIAM BLAKE THE CHURCH-PORCH by GEORGE HERBERT THE ROSES ON THE TERRACE by ALFRED TENNYSON THE WOOD THRUSH by SUSAN SHARP ADAMS LILIES: 15 by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |