WHAT time the rosy-flushing West Sleeps soft on copse and dingle, Wherein the sunset shadows rest, Or richly float and mingle; When down the vale the wood-dove's tone Thrills in a cadonce tender, And every rare, ethereal mote Turns to a winged splendor. Just as the mystic cloudlands ope, Far up their sapphire portal, Fair as the fairest dream of Hope, Half goddess and half mortal, I see that lovely genius rise, That child of Orient trances, On whose sweet face the glory lies Of weird Hellenic fancies, -- Chloris! beneath whose procreant tread All earth yields up her sweetness, -- The violet's scent, the rose's red, The dahlia's orbed completeness, And verdures on the myriad hills, The breath of her pure duty Hath nursed to life by sparkling rills And foliaged nooks of beauty; Till bloom and odor, blush and song, So fill earth's radiant spaces, The fading touch of sin, or wrong, Leaves glad the weariest faces; And so, through happy spring-tide dells, O'er mount, and field, and river, Her zephyr's fairy clarion swells, Her footsteps glance forever! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE USES OF POETRY by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THE SOUND OF THE SEA; SONNET by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 11. AL-MUTAKABBIR by EDWIN ARNOLD EUTERPE by LUCIUS MORRIS BEEBE SICK BED by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE PITCHER by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN STANZAS TO PAINTING by THOMAS CAMPBELL TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 3. I SAW A VISION by EDWARD CARPENTER |