Full Online Books
Authors Authors Short Stories Short Stories Long Stories Long Stories Funny Stories Funny Stories Love Stories Love Stories Stories For Kids Stories For Kids Poems Poems Essays Essays Nonfictions Nonfictions Plays Plays Folktales Folktales Fairy Tales Fairy Tales Fables Fables Learning Kitchen Learning Kitchen
Valid XHTML 1.0 Transitional Free Classified Website Without Registration Free Classified Website Daniel Company
Twitter Twitter Add book
Full Online Book HomePoemsFrom The Hill Of Gardens
Famous Authors (View All Authors)
From The Hill Of Gardens Post by :Shirley Category :Poems Author :Rennell Rodd Date :November 2011 Read :3089

Click below to download : From The Hill Of Gardens (Format : PDF)

From The Hill Of Gardens

The outline of a shadowy city spread
Between the garden and the distant hill--
And o'er yon dome the flame-ring lingers still,
Set like the glory on an angel's head:
The light fades quivering into evening blue
Behind the pine-tops on Ianiculum;
The swallow whispered to the swallow "come!"
And took the sunset on her wings, and flew.

One rift of cloud the wind caught up suspending
A ruby path between the earth and sky;
Those shreds of gold are angel wings ascending
From where the sorrows of our singers lie;
They have not found those wandering spirits yet,
But seek for ever in the red sunset.

Pass upward angel wings! Seek not for these,
They sit not in the cypress-planted graves;
Their spirits wander over moonlit waves,
And sing in all the singing of the seas;
And by green places in the spring-tide showers,
And in the re-awakening of flowers.

Some pearl-lipped shell still dewy with sea foam
Bear back to whisper where their feet have trod;
They are the earth's for evermore; fly home!
And lay a daisy at the feet of God.

(The end)
Rennell Rodd's poem: From The Hill Of Gardens

If you like this book please share to your friends :

In The Coliseum In The Coliseum

In The Coliseum
Night wanes; I sit in the ruin alone; Beneath, the shadow of arches falls From the dim outline of the broken walls; And the half-light steals o'er the age-worn stone From a midway arch where the moon looks through, A silver shield in the deep, deep blue. This is the hour of ghosts that rise; --Line on line of the noiseless dead-- The clouds above are their

For A Picture Of Watteau For A Picture Of Watteau

For A Picture Of Watteau
HERE the vague winds have rest;The forest breathes in sleep,Lifting a quiet breast;It is the hour of rest.How summer glides away!An autumn pallor bloomsUpon the check of day.Come, lovers, come away!But here dead leaves fallUpon the grass, what strains,Languidly musical,Mournfully rise and fall?Light loves that woke with springThis autumn afternoonBeholds meandering,Still, to the strains of spring.Your dancing feet are faint,Lovers: the air recedesInto a sighing plaint,Faint, as your loves are faint.It is the end, the end,The dance of love's decease.Feign no more now, fair friend!It is the end, the end.(The end)Arthur Symons's poem: For A Picture Of Watteau