The scarlet on the hill; Lone trails and winding woodroads Grand, majestic, testifying Thy pool that brims From the broad highland region, black with pines, Earth, with her thousand voices, praises God. And a cave of honey the bees know, While the moist Earth was laughing below. "I'm thirsty, cloud, O, fall, please fall! Solemnly calm, without a visible motion, Dancing down their way; And hills and rivers, mountains, lakes, and woods, Of the pine-tree's low, sweet sighing not only passive praise And who at night cloth still confer Is solitary, save for one wise thrush, In adoration, upward from thy base, O'er Greece long fettered and oppressed, And floating, sweet spirit, to you; To find release Fixed on their old foundations, unsubdued; Till it found itself a flower. My eyes dim for the skyline In the sense of looking fair. But I would woo the winds to let us rest The birds have vanished down the sky. I know her well, Li left his home at Ch'ang-ming, Szechwan, about 720, and for twenty years wandered from place to place, occasionally seeking official employment but not through the examinations. Or the far uttered thunders; who ascend That every peak remote and strange The poem then turns into an expansive reflection on all the invisible phenomena of bodies and lives, of emotions and desires that ebb and flow as their building blocks get rearranged. Of purity and light; or ye who crowd Laugh they as laughed in his slumber old Ymir, And look deep into the white cloud On thy bald, awful head, O sovran Blanc! Whose sons at length have heard the call that comes The sun, that fills with light each glistening fold, Thy heart is. Sings the spirit of our freedom, The way to climb the mountain was a winding path and covered by snow and it is very difficult to climb. Ye living flowers that skirt the eternal frost! The falling crystals of snow, the cold winter nights, the warmth and cheer of loved ones, and the silence etched out in time is listed out in the most famous poems about winter season. What a big place for a little one, Just topping o'er its waves, while deep below And I all the while bask in Heaven's blue smile, Each sheep seems hastening to be The minstrel king, in bitter anguish come, The unworn ritual of eternal things. Li Bai (701-762), the most popular Chinese poet, lived in the Tang Dynasty (618-907), which is the most prosperous dynasty in Chinese history. And spread all the hills with a tenuous scarf Boats Sail on the Rivers by Christina Rossetti. And amidst the twilight shadows, The very soul of music in her looks! And I shall not have forgotten And sleep in the sheltered chalet,— Like novice clinging in a swoon In you the heart that sighs for freedom seeks Of twilight plant their tinted tents. And look and see what we thought tall Nay, soul, thy daily sky The mountains will not turn to look. The clouds have put their gorgeous livery on, So sweet we know not we are listening to it, As with a wedge! His presence purified, as he arose! Who, with living flowers Towards the wide plain and fertile valley lands. what armed nations—Asian horde, . And ah! To far-off worlds below The spell of old enchantments, Sublime on the towers of my skiey bowers, the sun In the sunshine warm and bright. Shake off the chains and all the dust of earth! Ye lonely peaks, with brows of ice! Gives mirror to a flight of clouds There, rooted to the aerial shelves that wear A heap of silver. E'en in its very motion there was rest, Till I fancy it floats out of heaven, His few grieved followers out, in that drear night. Of leaves and waters and the peace Unto the broad sun-sea, The sun shone out and the cloud ran away! Pine silently for the redeeming hour. Most gracious hills, in that tempestuous time, It must be so. Do you hold the eagles' nests? And the music of their brooklets, So still, so cool, Of this constant strife; Thou sacred mount, on whose pale forehead now Ages of war have filled these plains with fear; This poem, written in about 740 A.D., is one of his many famous poems about parting with friends. The poem begins with the speaker describing the area surrounding the mountain. Beautiful and clear as it had been, the morning (as the day approached the completion of its first half) was becoming damp and misty. Leaving me behind, But with paper and ink so scarce, I haven't thought about writing them down. Men go back to the mountains… because in the mountains and on the sea they must face up, as did men of another age, to the challenge of nature. Glows within with daisies gay. Go up and breathe in the sweet atmosphere And enter heaven with thine ascending Lord! 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