The garden is steeped in moonlight, Full to its high edges with brimming silver, And the fish-ponds brim and darken And run in little serpent lights soon extinguished. Lily-pads lie upon the surface, beautiful as the tarnishings on frail old silver, And the Harvest moon droops heavily out of the sky, A ripe, white melon, intensely, magnificently, shining. Your window is orange in the moonlight, It glows like a lamp behind the branches of the old wistaria, It burns like a lamp before a shrine, The small, intimate, familiar shrine Placed reverently among the bricks Of a much-loved garden wall. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CATARINA TO CAMOENS by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE DEATH OF THE HIRED MAN by ROBERT FROST SONG by WALTHER VON DER VOGELWEIDE STEADFASTNESS; THE LOVER BESEECHETH HIS MISTRESS by THOMAS WYATT SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 29 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |