A thane beneath a snowy hawthorn hedge, When dove-gray hills were golden with the sky, Laid down his scythe to hear a starry cry Fall like a dream wind-blown from ledge to ledge, And, from the chapel on the forest edge, A saint's deep chant soar sunward clear and high, As when the lines of gleaming heron fly To lonely pools beyond the purpled sedge. Then white as dew upon the morning sheaves The reaper saw a cloud of angels pass Through sunlit birches by the water-springs, And watched them wait among the dappled leaves To fold Chad's soul, more sweet than summer grass, Within the silver circle of their wings. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GALAHAD IN THE CASTLE OF THE MAIDENS by SARA TEASDALE VIGNETTES OVERSEAS: 6. RUINS OF PAESTUM by SARA TEASDALE CANZONET: TO HIS COY LOVE by MICHAEL DRAYTON TO THE MEMORY OF MR. OLDHAM by JOHN DRYDEN HYMNS OF THE MARSHES: SUNRISE by SIDNEY LANIER A BALLAD OF THE FRENCH FLEET; OCTOBER, 1746 by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW |