A Naked house, a naked moor, A shivering pool before the door, A garden bare of flowers and fruit, And poplars at the garden foot; Such is the place that I live in, Bleak without and bare within. Yet shall your ragged moors receive The incomparable pomp of eve, And the cold glories of the dawn Behind your shivering trees be drawn; And when the wind from place to place Doth the unmoored cloud galleons chase, Your garden blooms and gleams again With leaping sun and glancing rain; Here shall the wizard moon ascend The heavens, in the crimson end Of day’s declining splendor; here, The army of the stars appear. The neighbor hollows, dry or wet, Spring shall with tender flowers beset; And oft the morning muser see Larks rising from the broomy lea, And every fairy wheel and thread Of cobweb dew dediamonded. When daisies go, shall winter time Silver the simple grass with rime; Autumnal frosts enchant the pool And make the cart ruts beautiful. And when snow bright the moor expands, How shall your children clap their hands! To make this earth our heritage, A cheerful and a changeful page, God’s intricate and bright device Of days and seasons doth suffice.
The House Beautiful
More from Poet
-
From the bonny bells of heather They brewed a drink long-syne, Was sweeter far than honey, Was stronger far than wine. They brewed it and they drank it, And lay in a blessèd swound For days and days together In the dwellings underground. There rose a king in Scotland, A fell man to his...
-
Yet, O stricken heart, remember, O remember How of human days he lived the better part. April came to bloom and never dim December Breathed its killing chills upon the head or heart. Doomed to know not winter, only spring, a being Trod the flowery April blithely for a while, Took his fill...
-
A Naked house, a naked moor, A shivering pool before the door, A garden bare of flowers and fruit, And poplars at the garden foot; Such is the place that I live in, Bleak without and bare within. Yet shall your ragged moors receive The incomparable pomp of eve, And the cold glories of the dawn...
-
It is the season now to go About the country high and low, Among the lilacs hand in hand, And two by two in fairy land. The brooding boy, the sighing maid, Wholly fain and half afraid, Now meet along the hazelled brook To pass and linger, pause and look. A year ago, and blithely paired, Their...
-
I Saw you toss the kites on high And blow the birds about the sky; And all around I heard you pass, Like ladies’ skirts across the grass— O wind, a-blowing all day long, O wind, that sings so loud a song! I saw the different things you did, But always you yourself you hid. I felt you push, I...