The drowsy garden scatters insects Bronze as the ash from braziers blown. Level with me and with my candle, Hang flowering worlds, their leaves full-grown. As into some unheard-of dogma I move across into this night, Where a worn poplar age has grizzled Screens the moon's strip of fallow light, Where the pond lies, an open secret, Where apple-bloom is surf and sigh, And where the garden, a lake-dwelling, Holds out in front of it the sky | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VICARIOUS ATONEMENT by RICHARD ALDINGTON STORIES ARE MADE OF MISTAKES by JAMES GALVIN ON BRODSKY'S COLLECTED by MICHAEL S. HARPER THE WILLOW by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DON JUAN'S SONG by ISAAC ROSENBERG |