The Covered Bridge
There, from its entrance, lost in matted vines, Where in the valley foams a water-fall, Is glimpsed a ruined mill's remaining wall; Here, by the road, the oxeye daisy mines Hot brass and bronze; the trumpet-trailer shines Red as the plumage of the cardinal. Faint from the forest comes the rain-crow's call Where dusty Summer dreams among the pines. This is the spot where Spring writes wildflower verses In primrose pink, while, drowsing o'er his reins, The ploughman, all unnoticing, plods along: And where the Autumn opens weedy purses Of sleepy silver, while the corn-heaped wains Rumble the bridge like some deep throat of song.
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"There, from its entrance, lost in matted vines,..."
Exploring the themes of classic, Madison Julius Cawein delivers a powerful performance in "The Covered Bridge"... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...