Classic Poem

Far off the great stream held the blinding glare, —
A line of bleak effulgence so intense
It seemed to lift the River, and to bend
The level radiance upward; while the woods,
That rose between us and that blazing streak
Were severed and dismembered, — cut across —
By that long, horizontal sword of light,
Which, made more dazzling by the river-ice,
Hurled javelin flashes — scintillating darts
Insufferably brilliant, blinding us;
Then, turning from this flare, we faced the East,
Not unamused by that mild, lesser orb,
The troubled moon, plump faced, that doleful smiled
Inanely toward us from a lilac sky.