HEAT of the sun that maketh all men black, -- They are but Ethiopian shades of thee -- Pour down upon this wild and glittering fleece That is more rich than feathers of bright birds The ripening gems, the drops of the still night. I parch for that still shade, my heat of love That parched those ripening gems hath withered me. Come with the African pomp and train of waves, Give me your darkness, my immortal shade, Beside the waterwells my heart hath known. The shepherds hairy-rough as satyrs come, Bring up their fleeces that are waterfull With freshness clear as precious gums of trees Where weep the incense trees from some deep smart, So the fresh water from your fleece flows in To fill with richness all my desert heart. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OCTAVES: 16 by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON ODE, FR. THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM by RICHARD BARNFIELD THE SHIPWRECK, SELECTION by WILLIAM FALCONER THE IDEA OF BALANCE IS TO BE FOUND IN HERONS AND LOONS by JAMES HARRISON THE WRECK OF THE DEUTSCHLAND by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS MILLS OF DESTINY by EVA K. ANGLESBURG |