For I have watched it from its dawn-dream start, They represent impossible challenges, insurmountable obstacles that dare to be summited. Will love and dream till time shall cease to be; Glimpsing the golden dawn o'er coral bars,

© Poems are the property of their respective owners. Gazing to Her in worship half forlorn, All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge... Recite this poem (upload your own video or voice file). Lake Poems The Lake In spring of youth it was my lot To haunt of the wide world a spot The which I could not love the less- So lovely was the loneliness Of a wild lake, with black rock bound, And the tall pines that towered around. Autoplay next video. The Mountain Lake Poem by Amar Agarwala. There is no comment submitted by members.. © Poems are the property of their respective owners. Framing her image in its trembling heart;

Thrilling responsive to her every mood, Stilling its mirror to her splendid snow, Proudly patrician, passionless, serene; All around the world, mountains rise up out of the landscape, reaching high in to the sky. . All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge... Recite this poem (upload your own video or voice file). Kissing her throne, melodiously mad, The Mountain Lake Poem by Amar Agarwala - Poem Hunter, Poem Submitted: Wednesday, December 16, 2015. And at her feet there dreams a quiet lake. The Mountain And The Lake Poem by Robert William Service. Gloomed with her sadness, gay when she is glad. Such a mortal too was Clooth-na-Bare, who went all over the world, seeking a lake deep enough to drown her faery life, of which she had grown weary, leaping from hill to hill, and setting up a cairn of stones wherever her feet lighted, until, at last, she found the deepest water in the world in little Lough Ia, on the top of the bird mountain, in Sligo. Peerless and pure, and pinnacled with snow; . And at her feet there dreams a quiet lake. It is difficult to know at what moment love begins; it is less difficult to know that it has begun. I missed this comment of yours.

My lake adores my mountain -- well I know, For I have watched it from its dawn-dream start, Stilling its mirror to her splendid snow, Virgin and vestal -- Oh, a very Queen! Kippagh Mountain Lake Poem by Francis Duggan. the mountain lake so very blue like a mirror it reflects all the beauty that surrounds it the sky, the shore and the mountain The sun from above climbs down to swim in the lake softly ripples blow over the surface and when the lake is still once more you can see the reflection of the sun and the mountain snow As the lake surface stills

My peerless mountain, splendid in her scorn. But I know you're an ardent poetry enthusiast and a talented poet yourself. Alas! https://ryallon.blogspot.com/2011/11/my-mountain-lake-poem.html This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

My lake adores my mountain -- well I know, The skylark sing above the bracken hill That voice once heard one never can mistake And sunlight down the silent mountain steal And light the dark waters of Kippagh lake.

The lake trout to the shallow waters swim They like to feel the warmth of the sun And tiny rill that has spring as it's source Down from the mountain through the bracken run. I know a mountain thrilling to the stars, Autoplay next video. To keep awake.

Mountain Poems.

The skylark sing above the bracken hillThat voice once heard one never can mistakeAnd sunlight down the silent mountain stealAnd light the dark waters of Kippagh lake.The lake trout to the shallow waters swimThey like to feel the warmth of the sunAnd tiny rill that has spring as it's sourceDown from the mountain through the bracken run.In centuries gone i heard old woman sayThe Gaelic bards to Kippagh mountain cameAnd found the inspiration for their songsIn land too wild and rough for man to tame.They sang their songs but never wrote them downAnd the bards have gone and with them died their fameAnd old culture gone and people have changed tooBut Kippagh mountain lake still look much the same.I know of a lake surrounded by high hillsWhere gaelic minstrel sang his final layA place too high and wild for man to tameBeyond the seas thousands of miles away.