THE trembling train clings to the leaning wall Of solid stone; a thousand feet below Sinks a black gulf; the sky hangs like a pall Upon the peaks of everlasting snow. Then of a sudden springs a rim of light, Curved like a silver sickle. High and higher -- Till the full moon burns on the breast of night, And a million firs stand tipped with lucent fire. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TOM O'ROUGHLEY by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE TWO MYSTERIES by MARY ELIZABETH MAPES DODGE THE DARKLING THRUSH by THOMAS HARDY THE CHINESE NIGHTINGALE; A SONG IN CHINESE TAPESTRIES by NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY SCORN NOT THE LEAST by ROBERT SOUTHWELL CASTLES by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH TO HIMSELF; AN ODE by ANACREON |