THE shadows' saracenic hordes Overcome sweet firelight's lauds That still seem flowering as they pray To pictured kings that fade away. The flickering firelight whispered "Hush!" Flowering like a pale rose-bush, To kings and queens in coats of mail Melting like the first spring hail. The cold night seems like wintry boughs, -- Calm as a nightingale's song grows The old forgetful wind outside That faded to a whisper, died. * * * * * Now shadows seem the wives, grown dim, Of Algalath, Galgalath, Saraim, Those negro kings . . . each nods her head And walks through doors that lead to bed, Nodding their dark heads adown. Outside, leaves like a starry crown Are clear as the splintered star ice-green That is a crown for a negro queen. Downstairs the household noises die, The water seems a lullaby, And soft snow sings among the leaves Upon the boughs and castle eaves. And only the fire's drowsy glow Upon the soft bird-throats of snow Made those feathers, bull-finch soft, And rosy, singing from the loft. And the shadows, negro queens, grown dim Of Algalath, Galgalath, Saraim, Nod their heads in the halcyon clime Of age and wait for the clock's cold chime. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TWENTY-FOUR HOKKU ON A MODERN THEME by AMY LOWELL OPPORTUNITY by EDWARD ROWLAND SILL OF AN ORCHARD by KATHARINE TYNAN REMINISCENCE by DOROTHY ALLISON THE TURN OF THE ROAD by JANE BARLOW THE DEDICATION TO THE SERMONS by CHARLES CHURCHILL |