THE brave young city by the Balboa seas Lies compassed about by the hosts of night -- Lies humming, low, like a hive of bees; And the day lies dead. And its spirit's flight Is far to the west; while the golden bars That bound it are broken to a dust of stars. Come under my oaks, oh, drowsy dusk! The wolf and the dog; dear incense hour When Mother Earth hath a smell of musk, And things of the spirit assert their power -- When candles are set to burn in the west -- Set head and foot to the day at rest. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THINGS ARE WHAT THEY SEEM by MARIANNE MOORE TAM O' SHANTER by ROBERT BURNS SEVEN SAD SONNETS: 2. THE OTHER ONE COMES TO HER by MARY REYNOLDS ALDIS BUSINESS GIRLS by JOHN BETJEMAN |