Little silent rills of joy Bubble up I know not whence. When mute Phoebus was a boy Silence had this eloquence. Eyes of friends and hands of friends, Love, but not the words of love. This is the top of youth. Here ends All they all were dreaming of. Mists of morning drift asunder. Laughing, mocking, lost in wonder, Where her stubborn brothers play Slender Dian trips today, Tempting to a tenderer fray. I am pelted as with roses. Fragrance, fragrance everywhere, Pure, proud lips and profile fair, Beautiful young golden hair. My heart drinks its fill, and closes. A slight smile, a parting cheer, Flouts the perils of their lot -- What should summer know of fear? -- Nor does gallant memory blot This green page with any tear. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OLNEY HYMNS: 35. LIGHT SHINING OUT OF DARKNESS by WILLIAM COWPER COUSIN NANCY by THOMAS STEARNS ELIOT THE METAMORPHOSIS OF THE WALNUT-TREE OF BOARSTELL: CANTO 1 by WILLIAM BASSE THE VALEDICTION by RICHARD BAXTER FOR NOEL (WHERE A GATE SWINGS EITHER WAY) by BEULAH ALLYNE BELL |