South German night, spread out beneath the moon. And mild as if all fairy tales were there; The hours fall from the steeple in a swoon, As if into some deep and hidden lair.-- A murmur and a rustling round the pond, Then silence hangs but empty in the air; And then a violin (God knows from where) Awakes and says quite tranquilly: A blonde-- | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FABRIC OF LIFE by KAY RYAN EXILED by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 18. HARD TO BE PLEASED by PHILIP AYRES ONLY A BABY SMALL by MATTHIAS BARR CORRESPONDENCES by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE PERSONALITY by WILLIAM ROSE BENET PSALM 67 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE |