By this low fire I often sit to woo Memory to bring the days forever done, And call the mountains where our love begun And the dear happy woodlands dipped in dew, And pore upon the landscape like a book But cannot find her: or there rise to me Gardens and groves in light and shadow outspread; Or on a headland far away I see Men marching slow in orderly review, And bayonets flash as, wheeling from the sun, Rank after rank give fire: or sad, I look On miles of moonlit brine, with many a bed Of wave weed heaving. There the wet sands shine And just awash, the low reef lifts its line. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FIRELIGHT by KATHERINE MANSFIELD THE HEMP (A VIRGINIA LEGEND) by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET MY DEATH AS A GIRL I KNEW by JAMES GALVIN TO THE MEMORY OF INEZ MILHOLLAND by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON CAMOMILE TEA by KATHERINE MANSFIELD |