I HEAR the cattle low; I catch the faint sheep-bells; I hark the robins' flute across the meadow swells; I see the friendly boughs, boughs of the apple-trees; They wave me kindly hands, mine own Hesperides. Far have I fared, oh, far, by many an alien shore, But I have come to climb the hills of home once more! Beguiling scenes I've scanned beyond the plunging seas, But ne'er a scene like this, mine own Hesperides! Pomegranates I have plucked where glows the southern sun; Yea, I have set to lip the grapes of Lebanon! But I have found at last the only true heart's ease; Here is the golden fruit, -- mine own Hesperides! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE BEING AS VISION by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE LITTLE FIRE IN THE WOODS by HAYDEN CARRUTH AMERICA THE BEAUTIFUL by KATHARINE LEE BATES THE BIRTHNIGHT: TO F by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE THERE WILL COME SOFT RAINS' by SARA TEASDALE THE CHILD IN A GARDEN by MARIA ABDY |