MARK ye not the sunbeams glancing Through the cool green shade, On the waving fern-leaves dancing, In the quiet glade? See you how they change and quiver Where the broad oaks rise, Rippling like a golden river From their fountain skies? On the gray old timber resting Like a sleeping dove, Like a fairy grandchild nestling In an old man's love. On the dusty pathway tracing Arabesques with golden style; Light and shadow interlacing, Like a tearful smile. Many a hidden leaf revealing, Many an unseen flower; Like a maiden lightly stealing Past each secret bower. Oh! how beautiful they make it Everywhere they fall; Sunbeams! why will ye forsake it At pale Evening's call? In the arching thickets linger, In the woodland aisle, Gilding them with trembling finger, Yet a little while. Then, your last calm radiance pouring, Bid the earth good-night; Like a sainted spirit soaring To a home of light. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DE LITTLE PICKANINNY'S GONE TO SLEEP by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON AT THE ZOO IN SPAIN by CLARENCE MAJOR SONGS OUT OF SORROW: REFUGE by SARA TEASDALE WAITING - BOTH by THOMAS HARDY VALENTINES TO MY MOTHER: 1878 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE LAMPLIGHTER by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON FIRST ICE by KENNETH SLADE ALLING |