Come, then, with showers; I love thy cloudy face Gilded with splendour of the sunbeams thro' The heedless glory of thy locks. I know The arch, sweet languour of thy fleeting grace, The windy lovebeams of thy dwelling-place, Thy dim dells wherein azure bluebells blow, The brimming rivers where thy lightnings go Harmless and full and swift from race to race. Thou takest all young hearts captive with thine eyes; At rumour of thee the tongues of children ring Louder than bees; the golden poplars rise Like trumps of peace; and birds, on homeward wing, Fly mocking echoes shrill along the skies, Above the waves' grave diapasoning. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DARBY AND JOAN by FREDERIC EDWARD WEATHERLY THE LORD SPEAKS by KARLE WILSON BAKER THE BATTLE OF THE FLOWERS by MATHILDE BLIND A DENIAL by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING LITTLE SISTER by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON ROSY-POSY by ANN AUGUSTA GRAY CARTER A STRANGER MINSTREL; TO MRS. ROBINSON BEFORE HER DEATH by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE |