THE lilac ling my bed, I lay In that entranced half-isle of ours, -- That Sirmio of a northern bay, Paven with tiny leaves and flowers; -- Ancestral birches down the blue Their waterfalls of silver threw. Between their gnarl'd and papery boughs The radiant lake burned in the sun; I looked out of their fairy house, And watched the waves break one by one -- Reverberant turquoise shattered there Between green earth and golden air. Hot in the breeze, the distant pines Cast wafts of spice across our shore; And unseen rosemaries gave signs, And secret junipers their store; From every flower and herb and tree Sabaean odours sighed to me. And all things sang, too, -- the soft wind, The birch-leaves' petulant, shy sound, The lapping waters, and the thinned Sleek tufts of autumn leafage browned, The cow-bell far away, that fills All corners of the folded hills. Thus odour, song, and colour wrought A magic raiment for my soul: All the dark garments pain had brought To robe me for the masque of dole Fell from me straightway; I was clad As angels when God makes them glad. Blue, golden-green, and silver-white -- Were these not hues for happiness? In our elysian island bright, Round the worn pilgrim still they press; They dress him for the world anew, These spirits of white and green and blue. And so for hours I laid my head Upon the lilac spires of ling, And thus, by Beauty islanded, I heard the lustral waters sing, And watched the low wind stir the gold And turn the quavering birch-leaves cold. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SONG OF A TRAVELLER by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON THEN AND NOW by JEAN JACQUES ANTOINE AMPERE AUGUST SUNSET OVER LAKE CHAMPLAIN by FRANK A. BALCH FIDELIA ARGUING WITH HER SELF ON THE DIFFICULTY FINDING TRUE RELIGION by JANE BARKER THE LAST OF AUTUMN by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |