The climate of thought has seldom been described. It is no terror of Caucasian frost, Nor yet that brooding Hindu heat For which a loin-rag and a dish of rice Suffice until the pestilent monsoon. But, without winter, blood would run too thin;Or, without summer, fires would burn too long. In thought the seasons run concurrently. Thought has a sea to gaze, not voyage on; And hills, to rough the edge of the bland sky, Not to be climbed in search of blander prospect; Few birds, sufficient for such caterpillars As are not fated to turn butterflies; Few butterflies, sufficient for the flowers That are the luxury of a full orchard; Wind, sometimes, in the evening chimneys; rain On the early morning roof, on sleepy sight; Snow streaked upon the hilltop, feeding The fond brook at the valley-head That greens the valley and that parts the lips; The sun, simple, like a country neighbour; The moon, grand, not fanciful with clouds. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SCILLA'S METAMORPHOSIS: MELANCHOLY by THOMAS LODGE MOLLY PITCHER [JUNE 28, 1778] by KATE BROWNLEE SHERWOOD HEATHER ALE: A GALLOWAY LEGEND by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON ON CHLORIS WALKING IN THE SNOW by WILLIAM STRODE IN THE DEEP WHITE SNOW by ANNE ATWOOD THE OUTLAW'S SONG by JOANNA BAILLIE |