Posted by: W. E. Poplaski | March 2, 2009

POEM OF THE DAY: The Two Villages

by Rose (Terry) Cooke (1827 – 1892).


The Two Villages


Over the river, on the hill,  

Lieth a village white and still;  

All around it the forest-trees  

Shiver and whisper in the breeze;  

Over it sailing shadows go                                                            5

Of soaring hawk and screaming crow,  

And mountain grasses, low and sweet,  

Grow in the middle of every street.  


Over the river, under the hill,  

Another village lieth still;                                                            10

There I see in the cloudy night  

Twinkling stars of household light,  

Fires that gleam from the smithy’s door,  

Mists that curl on the river-shore;  

And in the roads no grasses grow,                                           15

For the wheels that hasten to and fro.  


In that village on the hill  

Never is sound of smithy or mill;  

The houses are thatched with grass and flowers;  

Never a clock to toll the hours;                                                 20

The marble doors are always shut,  

You cannot enter in hall or hut;  

All the villagers lie asleep;  

Never a grain to sow or reap;  

Never in dreams to moan or sigh;                                            25

Silent and idle and low they lie.  


In that village under the hill,  

When the night is starry and still,  

Many a weary soul in prayer  

Looks to the other village there,                                              30

And weeping and sighing, longs to go  

Up to that home from this below;  

Longs to sleep in the forest wild,  

Whither have vanished wife and child,  

And heareth, praying, this answer fall:                                   35

“Patience! that village shall hold ye all!”



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