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 | The poetical works of Edward Rowland Sill |  |
334
WORDSWORTH
A moonlit desert's yellow sands,
Where, dimmer than its shadow, stands
A motionless palm-tree here and there,
And the great stars through amber air
Burn calm as planets, and the face
Of earth seems lifting into space:—
Where, dimmer than its shadow, stands
A motionless palm-tree here and there,
And the great stars through amber air
Burn calm as planets, and the face
Of earth seems lifting into space:—
A tropic ocean's starlit rest,
Along whose smooth and sleeping breast
Slow swells just stir the mirrored gleams,
Like faintest sighs in placid dreams;
All overhead the night, so high
And hollow that there seems no sky,
But the unfathomed deeps, among
The worlds down endless arches swung:—
Along whose smooth and sleeping breast
Slow swells just stir the mirrored gleams,
Like faintest sighs in placid dreams;
All overhead the night, so high
And hollow that there seems no sky,
But the unfathomed deeps, among
The worlds down endless arches swung:—
On moonlit plain, and starlit sea,
Is life's lost charm, tranquillity.
Is life's lost charm, tranquillity.
A poet found it once, and took
It home, and hid it in a book,
As one might press a violet.
There still the odor lingers yet.
Delicious; from your treasured tomes
Reach down your Wordsworth, and there comes
That fragrance which no bard but he
E'er caught, as if the plain and sea
Had yielded their serenity.
It home, and hid it in a book,
As one might press a violet.
There still the odor lingers yet.
Delicious; from your treasured tomes
335
That fragrance which no bard but he
E'er caught, as if the plain and sea
Had yielded their serenity.
| The poetical works of Edward Rowland Sill | |