O pool in which we dallied And splashed the prostrate Noon! O Water-boy, more pallid Than any watery moon! O Lilies round him turning! O broken Lilies, strewn! O silver Lutes of Morning! O Red of the Drums of Noon! O dusky-plumaged sorrow! O ebon Swans of Care -- I sought thee on the Morrow, And never found thee there! I breathed the vapour-blended Cloud of a dim despair: White lily, is it ended? Gold lily -- oh, golden hair! The pool that was thy dwelling I hardly knew again, So black it was, and swelling With bitter wind and rain. 'Mid the bowed leaves I lingered, Lashed by the blast of Pain, Till evening, storm-rose-fingered, Beckoned to night again. There burst a flood of Quiet Over the unstelled skies; Full moon flashed out a-riot: Near her I dreamt thine eyes Afloat with night, still trembling With captured mysteries: But sulphured wracks, assembling, Redarkened the bright skies. Ah, thou at least art lying Safe at the white nymph's feet, Listless, while I, slow-dying, Twist my gaunt limbs for heat! Yet I'll to Earth, my Mother: So, boy, I'll still entreat Forgive me -- for none other Like Earth is honey-sweet! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FREDERICKSBURG by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE BATTLE OF NASEBY by THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY SHUT OUT by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE INDIAN'S WELCOME TO THE PILGRIM FATHERS by LYDIA HUNTLEY SIGOURNEY THE BATTLE OF QUEENSTOWN by WILLIAM BANKER JR. WAITING BY THE GATE by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT |