AH, me! I know how like a golden flower The Grand Ronde valley lies this August night, Locked in by dimpled hills where purple light Lies wavering. There at the sunset hour Sink downward, like a rainbow-tinted shower, A thousand colored rays, soft, changeful, bright. Later the large moon rises, round and white, And three Blue Mountain pines against it tower, Lonely and dark. A coyote's mournful cry Sinks from the canon, -- whence the river leaps A blade of silver underneath the moon. Like restful seas the yellow wheat-fields lie, Dreamless and still. And while the valley sleeps, O hear! -- the lullabies that low winds croon. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CAVALIER TUNES: MARCHING ALONG by ROBERT BROWNING TO THE MEMORY OF THE LATE REV. GILBERT WAKEFIELD by LUCY AIKEN A PRAYER by EDNA MAY APPLEGATE OVID TO HIS WIFE: IMITATED FROM DIFFERENT PARTS OF TRISTIA by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD ECHOES OF SPRING: 5 by MATHILDE BLIND THE STEALING OF THE MARE; AN ARABIC EPIC OF THE TENTH CENTURY by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT GHOST FLOWERS by ALTA SMITH BOYD |