A hundred miles of landscape spread before me like a fan;
Hills behind naked hills, bronze light of evening on them shed;
How many thousand ages have these summits spied on man?
How many thousand times shall I look on them ere this fire in me is
dead?
(John Gould Fletcher)
More Poetry from John Gould Fletcher:
John Gould Fletcher Poems based on Topics: Man- London Excursion (John Gould Fletcher Poems)
- White Symphony (John Gould Fletcher Poems)
- The Black Rock (John Gould Fletcher Poems)
- The Blue Symphony (John Gould Fletcher Poems)
- Green Symphony (John Gould Fletcher Poems)
- Lincoln (John Gould Fletcher Poems)