Poetry Archives

The glorying forest shakes and swings with glancing
Of boughs that dip and strain; young, slanting sprays
Beckon and shift like lissom creatures dancing,
While the blown beechwood streams with drifting rays.
  Rooted in steadfast calm, grey stems are seen
  Like weather-beaten masts; the wood, unfurled,
  Seems as a ship with crowding sails of green
  That sweeps across the lonely billowing world.

O luminous and lovely! Let your flowers,
Your ageless-squadroned wings, your surge and gleam,
Drown me in quivering brightness: let me fade
  In the warm, rustling music of the hours
  That guard your ancient wisdom, till my dream
  Moves with the chant and whisper of the glade.