WHEN on the marge of evening the last blue light is broken, And winds of dreamy odor are loosened from afar, Or when my lattice opens, before the lark has spoken, On dim laburnum-blossoms, and morning's dying star, I think of thee, (O mine the more if other eyes be sleeping!) Whose great and noonday splendor the many share and see, While sacred and forever, some perfect law is keeping The late and early twilight alone and sweet for me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A FOOL, A FOUL THING, A DISTRESSFUL LUNATIC by MARIANNE MOORE ON A CARRIER WHO DIED OF DRUNKENNESS by GEORGE GORDON BYRON ON FINDING A FAN by GEORGE GORDON BYRON THE LABORS OF HERCULES by MARIANNE MOORE THE HIGHWAYMAN by ALFRED NOYES TO THE SHIP OF STATE by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS ODES: BOOK 2: ODE 12. ON RECOVERING FROM A FIT OF SICKNESS IN COUNTRY by MARK AKENSIDE |