THE bog blossom's golden pistil, The shimmering torrent's crystal Fling of its sapphire waters, crested with foam-drift white, The moorland and scent of the musky Wild flower borne on the dusky Wings of the wandering breezes that carry the starry night, Come with dreams of the wondrous olden Times, when fancy's golden Wand lay o'er my boyhood, filling my mind with joy I can see the moor and the dimly Waving gorse, and grimly The strong man smiles at the yearning that made the life of the boy. Ghosts of the olden faces, Voices from silent places, Eyes that are filled with laughter, eyes that with tears are wet, Into the days so gloomy Come in my musings to me One who has ne'er forgotten, one who can ne'er forget. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD: SONG by OLIVER GOLDSMITH WAITING - BOTH by THOMAS HARDY THE SECOND DAYES LAMENTATION OF THE AFFECTIONATE SHEPHEARD by RICHARD BARNFIELD AT HER CASEMENT by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON THE WANDERER: 5. IN HOLLAND: THE NORTH SEA by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON YWAIN AND GAWAIN: THE WINNING OF THE LADY OF THE FOUNTAIN by CHRETIEN DE TROYES |