A COTTAGER leaned whispering by her hives, Telling the bees some news, as they lit down, And entered one by one their waxen town. Larks passioning hung o'er their brooding wives, And all the sunny hills where heather thrives Lay satisfied with peace. A stately crown Of trees enringed the upper headland brown, And reedy pools, wherein the moor-hen dives, Glittered and gleamed. A resting-place for light, They that were bred here love it; but they say, We shall not have it long; in three years' time A hundred pits will cast out fires by night, Down yon still glen their smoke shall trail its way, And the white ash lie thick in lieu of rime." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HUFFMAN'S PHOTOGRAPH OF THE GRAVES OF THE UNKNOWN AT LITTLE BIGHORN by KAREN SWENSON A BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 12. A RENUNCIATION by THOMAS CAMPION THE MOURNING-GARMENT: THE SHEPHERD'S WIFE'S SONG by ROBERT GREENE THE LAND O' THE LEAL by CAROLINA OLIPHANT NAIRNE THE LOTOS-EATERS by ALFRED TENNYSON |