Now folds the Tree of Day its perfect flowers, And every bloom becomes a bud again, Shut and sealed up against the golden showers Of bees that hover in the velvet hours.... Now a strain Wild and mournful blown from shadow towers, Echoed from shadow ships upon the foam, Proclaims the Queen of Night. From their bowers The dark Princess fluttering, wing their flight To their old Mother, in her huge old home. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE TOMB AT AKR CAAR by EZRA POUND IN TALL GRASS by CARL SANDBURG COLD HANDS WARM HEART by KAREN SWENSON THE LITTLE VAGABOND, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE SAINT PAUL: 1 by FREDERICK WILLIAM HENRY MYERS IN STATE by BYRON FORCEYTHE WILLSON |