Rose Pogonias
A saturated meadow, Sun-shaped and jewel-small, A circle scarcely wider Than the trees around were tall; Where winds were quite excluded, And the air was stifling sweet With the breath of many flowers, A temple of the hear. There we bowed us in the burning, As the sun's right worship is, To pick where none could miss them A thousand orchises; For though the grass was scattered, yet every second spear Seemed tipped with wings of color, That tinged the atmosphere. We raised a simple prayer Before we left the spot, That in the general mowing That place might be forgot; Or if not all so favored, Obtain such grace of hours, that none should mow the grass there While so confused with flowers.
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"A saturated meadow,..."
Exploring the themes of classic, Robert Lee Frost delivers a powerful performance in "Rose Pogonias"... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...