The ragged heather-ridge is black Against the sunset's frosty rose; With rustling breath, down syke and slack, The icy, eager north-wind blows. It shivers through my hair, and flicks The blood into my tingling cheek; And with adventurous urging pricks My spirit, that in drowsy reek Of glowing peats had dreamt too long, Crouched in the cosy ingle-nook, Till life seemed vainer than the song The kettle sings upon the crook -- Till life seemed vainer than the puff Of steam that perished in hot air -- A fretful fume, a vapour stuff Of gusty passion, cloudy care. But as, once more, I watch the stars Re-kindle in the glittering west, Beyond the fell-top's naked scars, Life rouses in me with new zest. The immortal wakens in my blood Beneath the wind's relentless thresh; And universal life at flood Breaks through the bonds of bone and flesh. I scale the utmost peak of night, The eternal breath upon my face; Till, borne on plumes of singing light, I lose myself in starry space. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ODE TO THE CUCKOO by MICHAEL BRUCE FOR A' THAT AND A' THAT; SONG by ROBERT BURNS AT CANDLE-LIGHTIN' TIME by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR YOUR HANDS by ANGELINA WELD GRIMKE THE REAR-GUARD by SIEGFRIED SASSOON INDIGNATION; AN ODE by LASCELLES ABERCROMBIE ON READING 'VORTICIST POEM ON LOVE' by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS |