For miles the Illawarra range Runs level with Pacific seas: What glory when the morning breeze Upon its slopes doth shift and change Deep pink and crimson hues, till all The leagues-long distance seems a wall Of swift uncurling flames of fire That wander not nor reach up higher. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TROAS: ACT II. LATTER END OF THE CHORUS by LUCIUS ANNAEUS SENECA HE FELL AMONG THIEVES by HENRY JOHN NEWBOLT THE EBB AND FLOW by EDWARD TAYLOR GREAT FRIEND by HENRY DAVID THOREAU BLACK ROSES by WILLIAM HERVEY ALLEN JR. PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 58. AL-MUHSI by EDWIN ARNOLD GHOSTS by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES |