In the clear cold the dales grow blue and tremble; The iron hoofs beat sharply, knock on knock. The faded grasses in wide skirts assemble Flung copper where the wind-blown branches rock. From empty straths, a slender arch ascending: Fog curls upon the air and, moss-wise, grows, And evening, low above the wan streams bending, In their white waters washes his blue toes. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A POEM FROM BOULDER RIDGE by JAMES GALVIN BEARING LEAVES AGAIN by DAVID IGNATOW PENT by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TEARS AND KISSES by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE GOLDEN WEDDING OF STERLING AND SARAH LANIER by SIDNEY LANIER THE AWAKENING RIVER by KATHERINE MANSFIELD CONSECRATED GROUND; READ AT THE NEW YORK CITY HALL by EDWIN MARKHAM |