Thin little leaves of wood fern, ribbed and toothed, Long curved sail needles of the green pitch pine, With common sandgrass, skirt the horizon line, And over these the incorruptible blue! Here let me gently lie and softly view All world asperities, lightly touched and smoothed As by his gracious hand, the great Bestower. What though the year be late? some colors run Yet through the dry, some links of melody. Still let me be, by such, assuaged and soothed And happier made, as when, our schoolday done, We hunted on from flower to frosty flower, Tattered and dim, the last red butterfly, Or the old grasshopper molasses-mouthed. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE UNCERTAINTY PRINCIPLE by JAMES GALVIN TO RIDGELY TORRENCE - PLAYWRIGHT by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON PEOPLE'S SURROUNDINGS by MARIANNE MOORE YOU ARE FIRE EATERS by MARIANNE MOORE SONG OF THE OPEN COUNTRY by DOROTHY PARKER |