I stand upon the margin of our level lake;
The daylight from the west is fading fast away;
The rooks above the wood their evening concert make,
And in the gleaming pool the fishes leap and play.
Eastward, appearing dimly through the golden haze,
The Moon in perfect circle lifts her solemn light;
The waters tremble ever with a restless blaze,
With ripples and wood–shadows dappled dark and bright.
Why is my deathless spirit bound to minister
To transient matter? fettered to this vision fair,
I seem to lose all breath, no thought hath power to stir:
Ye take too much upon you, sights of earth and air!
Is it some purpose high of f
(Henry Alford)
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Based on Topics: Light Poems, Fairness Poems, Perfection Poems, Purposes PoemsBased on Keywords: wood-shadows