In a dense wood, a drear wood, Dark water is flowing; Deep, deep, beyond sounding, A flood ever flowing. There harbours no wild bird, No wanderer stays there; Wreathed in mist, sheds pale Ishtar Her sorrowful rays there. Take thy net; cast thy line; Manna sweet be thy baiting; Time's desolate ages Shall still find thee waiting For quick fish to rise there, Or butterfly wooing, Or flower's honeyed beauty, Or wood-pigeon cooing. Inland wellsprings are sweet; But to lips, parched and dry, Salt, salt is the savour Of these; faint their sigh. Bitter Babylon's waters. Zion, distant and fair. We hanged up our harps On the trees that are there. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A PRAISE OF HIS LOVE by HENRY HOWARD SONNET: 148 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE THE LAY OF THE LOVER'S FRIEND by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN THE MESSAGE-BEARER by JOHN D. BARRY HAPPY CHRISTMASTIDE by GERTRUDE ELOISE BEALER THE CONJUNCTION OF JUPITER AND VENUS by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT |