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Louis Untermeyer, ed. (1885–1977). Modern British Poetry. 1920.

W. J. Turner1889–1946


WHEN I was but thirteen or so

I went into a golden land,

Chimborazo, Cotopaxi

Took me by the hand.

My father died, my brother too,

They passed like fleeting dreams,

I stood where Popocatapetl

In the sunlight gleams.

I dimly heard the master’s voice

And boys far-off at play,—

Chimborazo, Cotopaxi

Had stolen me away.

I walked in a great golden dream

To and fro from school—

Shining Popocatapetl

The dusty streets did rule.

I walked home with a gold dark boy

And never a word I’d say,

Chimborazo, Cotopaxi

Had taken my speech away.

I gazed entranced upon his face

Fairer than any flower—

O shining Popocatapetl

It was thy magic hour:

The houses, people, traffic seemed

Thin fading dreams by day;

Chimborazo, Cotopaxi,

They had stolen my soul away!