Verse > Anthologies > Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. > An American Anthology, 1787–1900
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Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908).  An American Anthology, 1787–1900.  1900.
 
309. The Barren Moors
 
By William Ellery Channing
 
 
ON your bare rocks, O barren moors,
On your bare rocks I love to lie!—
They stand like crags upon the shores,
Or clouds upon a placid sky.
 
Across those spaces desolate        5
The fox pursues his lonely way,
Those solitudes can fairly sate
The passage of my loneliest day.
 
Like desert islands far at sea
Where not a ship can ever land,        10
Those dim uncertainties to me
For something veritable stand.
 
A serious place distinct from all
Which busy Life delights to feel,—
I stand in this deserted hall,        15
And thus the wounds of time conceal.
 
No friend’s cold eye, or sad delay,
Shall vex me now where not a sound
Falls on the ear, and every day
Is soft as silence most profound.        20
 
No more upon these distant worlds
The agitating world can come,
A single Pensive thought upholds
The arches of this dreamy home.
 
Within the sky above, one thought        25
Replies to you, O barren moors!
Between, I stand, a creature taught
To stand between two silent floors.
 

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