Here where the marsh Waves white with ranunculus, Where the yellow daffodil Flieth his banner In the fetid air, And oft 'mid the bulrushes Rustleth the porcupine Or surgeth the boar -- Though bloweth rarely The fresh wind, The Tramontana, And only Scirocco Heavily lifts The feathery plumes the tall canes carry: What dost thou here, O bird of the ocean? Here, where the marshes Are never stirred By the pulse of the tides; Here where the white mists Crawl on the swamp, But never the rush and the surge of the billows? White as a snowflake thou gleamest, and passest: Drearier now the chill waste of the Stagno, Wearier now the dull silence and boding. Would that again Thy glad presence were gleaming Here where the marsh Steams white in the sunshine; For swift on my sight, As thy white wings wavered, Broke the sea in its beauty, With foam, and splendour Of rolling waves: And loud on my ears (O the longing, the yearning) When thy cry filled the silence, Came the surge of the sea And the tumult of waters. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOMAGE TO SEXTUS PROPERTIUS: 9 by EZRA POUND THE BARMAID AND THE ALEXANDRITE by KAREN SWENSON SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 14 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING ALICE IN WONDERLAND: THE WALRUS AND THE CARPENTER by CHARLES LUTWIDGE DODGSON |