The hills are tipped with sunshine, while I walk In shadows dim and cold: The unawakened rose sleeps on her stalk In a bud's fold. Until the sun flood all the world with gold. The hills are crowned with glory, and the glow Flows widening down apace: Unto the sunny hill-tops I, set low, Lift a tired face, ''" Ah happy rose, content to wait for grace! How tired a face, how tired a brain, A heart I lift, who long For something never felt but still desired; Sunshine and song, Song where the choirs of sunny heaven stand choired. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOWN THE BROOK by ROBERT FROST EXPLICATION OF AN IMAGINARY TEXT by JAMES GALVIN PLEAD FOR ME by EMILY JANE BRONTE PASSION'S HOUNDS by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES WISTFULNESS by KATHARINE ADAMS |