WE turned back mad from the mystic mountains,
All foamed with red and with elfin gold:
Up from the heart of the twilight’s fountains
The fires enchanted were starward rolled.
We turned back mad: we thought of the morrow,
The iron clang of the far-away town:
We could not weep in our bitter sorrow,
But joy as an Arctic sun went down.
by George William Russell
| Best Poems | Short Poems
Email Poem |
More Poems by George William Russell
Comments, Analysis, and Meaning on A Return
Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem A Return here.