HERE, where the breath of the scented-gorse floats through the sun-stained air, On a steep hill-side, on a grassy ledge, I have lain hours long and heard Only the faint breeze pass in a whisper like a prayer, And the river ripple by and the distant call of a bird. On the lone hill-side, in the gold sunshine, I will hush me and repose, And the world fades into a dream and a spell is cast on me; And what was all the strife about, for the myrtle or the rose, And why have I wept for a white girl's paleness passing ivory! Out of the tumult of angry tongues, in a land alone, apart, In a perfumed dream-land set betwixt the bounds of life and death, Here will I lie while the clouds fly by and delve an hole where my heart May sleep deep down with the gorse above and red, red earth beneath. Sleep and be quiet for an afternoon, till the rose-white angelus Softly steals my way from the village under the hill: Mother of God, O Misericord, look down in pity on us, The weak and blind who stand in our light and wreak ourselves such ill. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOMAGE TO SEXTUS PROPERTIUS: 4. DIFFERENCE OF OPINION WITH LYGDAMUS by EZRA POUND BUCOLIC COMEDY: WHY by EDITH SITWELL AUTUMN DIALOGUE by LOUIS UNTERMEYER THE THANKSGIVING IN BOSTON HARBOR [JUNE 12, 1630] by HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH LORD, HEAR MY PRAYER; A PARAPHRASE OF THE 102ND PSALM by JOHN CLARE THE VANISHING BOAT by EDMUND WILLIAM GOSSE THE LION'S SKELETON by CHARLES TENNYSON TURNER |