SHE comes through the meadow yonder,
Her face is turned to the west,
And I divine how her clear eyes shine
With the light of a lasting rest;
And the rays of the sun-set wander
To bless her, and she is blest--
By touch of their golden splendour,
By beauty of earth and sky,
Her spirit waits at the western gates,
No music can pass her by
That Heaven or Earth may send her,
I watch where I stand, and sigh.
The rhymes and the repetitions gives even more charm to this poem.
A perfect melody in a beautifully penned short and sweet poem narrating manifestation of natural splendor. Thanks for sharing.
Very nice poem. I like the internal rhyme in some of the lines. And I DIVINE how her clear eyes SHINE Her spirit WAITS at the western GATES
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Lovely! Thanks for the share.