BENEATH our feet, the shuddering bogs Made earthquakes of their own, For greenish-grizzled furtive frogs And lizards lithe and brown; And high to east and south and west, Girt round the feet with gorse, Lay, summering, breast by giant breast, The titan brood of tors; Golden and phantom-pale they lay, Calm in the cloudless light, Like gods that, slumbering, still survey The obsequious infinite. Plod, plod, through herbage thin or dense; Past chattering rills of quartz; Across brown bramble-coverts, whence The shy black ouzel darts; Through empty leagues of broad, bare lands, Beneath the empty skies, Clutched in the grip of those vast hands, Cowed by those golden eyes, We fled beneath their scornful stare, Like terror-hunted dogs, More timid than the lizards were, And shyer than the frogs. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A NICE CORRESPONDENT by FREDERICK LOCKER-LAMPSON TO LUCASTA, [ON] GOING TO THE WARS by RICHARD LOVELACE THE WHITE COMRADE (AFTER W.H. LEATHAM'S 'THE COMRADE IN WHIRE') by ROBERT HAVEN SCHAUFFLER SIR GALAHAD by ALFRED TENNYSON THE LAMP OF HERO by LOUISE VICTORINE ACKERMANN LINES SUGGESTED BY A LATE OCCURRENCE by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD |