A BEECH-TREE o'er the mill-stream spreads its boughs, In many an eddy whirls the wave beneath; From Stony-bank the west wind's perfumed breath Sighs past—'tis Summer's gentle evening close: Smooth Esk, above thy tide the midges weave, Mixing and meeting oft, their fairy dance; While o'er the crown of Arthur's Seat a glance Of crimson plays—the sunshine's glorious leave; Except the blackbird from the dim Shire Wood, All else is still. So passes human life From us away—a dream within a dream: Ah! where are they, who with me, by this stream, Roamed ere this world was known as one of strife? Comes not an answer from the solitude! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A DEAD HARVEST (IN KENSINGTON GARDENS) by ALICE MEYNELL BURNS by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER ECLOGUE: THE COMMON A-TOOK IN by WILLIAM BARNES ON A VIOLA D'AMORE by MATHILDE BLIND AN ELEGY ON MR. WILLIAM HOPTON by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) ARISTOCRACY by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON THE DAY; NOVEMBER 11, 1918 by WITTER BYNNER MASQUE AT THE MARRIAGE OF THE LORD HAYES: HESPERUS SPEAKS by THOMAS CAMPION THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN: 2. THE LEGEND OF THISBE by GEOFFREY CHAUCER |