The Hill Of Dreams (Fragments) - Poem by William Mark
There is a magic in the midnight sky;
In tinted arctic dawns that gild the snow;
In golden, sunlit jungles of Khitai;
The glory of a Persian sunset's afterglow;
In the aurora's weird, unearthly light,
Where stars are eyes obscured behind a veil
Of dancing amethyst and malachite;
The vivid transience of the meteor's trail;
The silence of a ruined city of the waste;
Moonrise that dapples the deserted plain;
A solitary island by wild seas embraced;
By blind, perpetual tides that surge and race
To thunder on the skyward-reaching shore in vain;
In trackless forest; in high peaks cloaked in shroud
Of evening mist; in galleon-sails of summer cloud;
In all the endless beauty that this world contains...
* * * * * * * * *
Sweet charm resides in Nature’s every phase;
Where spring’s renewal dissolves in summer’s haze;
How autumn’s hand each dying leaf will braze
Ere winter falls, and blasts the world to stone.
The scarlet rose of summer fades and dies;
No sense of joy in spring or autumn lies;
No fire of hope ignites in winter skies;
For, amid all these things, I am alone.
Let winds of fortune blow me where they will;
A season’s turn but brings us closer still.
Each day apart is one more step to take;
Each hour we share, another tile in the mosaic...
Comments about The Hill Of Dreams (Fragments) by William Mark
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You