Thomas Cole's poetry the collected poems of America's foremost painter of the Hudson River School reflecting his feelings for nature and the romantic spirit of the Nineteenth Century |
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 | Thomas Cole's poetry |  |
'Tis joy which expression has no voice
To sit, when day is sinking, by that lake
To mark the breeze play on the mountain's top
And toss pine and beechen foilage gray;
And from the pink Azalia's fragrant flowers
And violet white haste with its honeyed breath
To kiss with gentle lips the grassy deep;
Bowing the lily to its brim as in the midst
Of the innumerable wavelets it doth seem
A gallant bark with beauty deeply fraught
Careening gaily o'er the dancing waves—
To sit, when day is sinking, by that lake
To mark the breeze play on the mountain's top
And toss pine and beechen foilage gray;
And from the pink Azalia's fragrant flowers
And violet white haste with its honeyed breath
To kiss with gentle lips the grassy deep;
Bowing the lily to its brim as in the midst
Of the innumerable wavelets it doth seem
A gallant bark with beauty deeply fraught
Careening gaily o'er the dancing waves—
| Thomas Cole's poetry | |